When Our Hero Bleeds
by SeeThroughTheDark
Summary: (Previously 'Under The Willow') OC : Willow ride. 'Vengeance is not a finale, Corvo, Lord Protector, it's a game. It's an endless game, an endless circle of ugly events ending in blood and gore. I asked you for my life, and you refused.' Daud turned back to Corvo, and spoke the words that he dreaded. 'Now it's my turn.'
1. The Lost Philosopher And The Unsung Hero

**Hello people. This is my first work, so it might be a little not professional. Please ignore grammar mistakes, I apologise for those. It might get a little boring in the middle, but I beg you to hold on. **

**BTW : I'm strictly against Corvo x Jessamine AND Corvo x Emily. So I've introduced my own character Willow Ride. Read on to know more about her.**

**One** - The Lost Philosopher And The Unsung Hero

Willow Ride sat at her desk, watching the half torn piece of parchment lying in front of her. Her brown eyes were stationary, and to anybody who glanced at her, she would appear lifeless. Her moca skin shimmered like gold along her hands and fingers, also as dead as her eyes under the lamp light. She looked like a statue - frozen in time, like a thing that was unaware of the raging progress going on around it, of all the machines and roaring engines that functioned at the foot of the tower, of the sounds of men and women working on a new age, of the mighty beasts being slain far across the oceans. She wasn't like a dead body, no - more like a sculpture, because something like a dead body would decay with time, would change with the age and the weather, would still have reactions going on within it, yielding to the earth and the air. She looked like a sculpture because nothing else seemed to matter to her.

But she wasn't a dead body, or a sculpture.

Inside her, there were blood chilling screams, resonating in every vein in her body, and feelings tangled up and raging on at such an enormous rate that on a scale that could equate emotions to mechanics, hers would be as intense as the action in the city.

The empty torn parchment had been the reason, her unyielding mind had been the reason, her failed intellect had been the reason. It was frustration, building up so fast that even her fingers started to tremble. In a movement as sudden as lightning, she shook - much like the sculpture had just burst into life - and tore the parchment even more, and tore into such small bits that she couldn't even tear it any further.

She sat in her chair, fingers trembling, the torn pieces held tight in her closed fist. She threw them away, and they fell onto the crimson carpet, like withered leaves that had fallen from an old tree.

She sat on the chair for a few more seconds, taking deep breaths, soothing herself, trying to convince herself that she would try again tomorrow, it was already two in the night, that that was the reason why she couldn't think of anything, and that she would surely succeed tomorrow.

Just like she had done for the past two years, on and off.

Taking a shaky breath, the trembling mass of flesh and bones moved, got up from its chair and dragged itself to the bed. It sat at the edge, looking out of the window, at the dark night that was as still as herself. The tower stood upright on the East, barely a few metres away from the building she was in, and she reminded herself that she had to go back to that place tomorrow, that she had to serve the empire, she had to do her duty.

She looked down at the torn pieces of parchment, and lay back on her bed. She closed her eyes, pushing her black hair away from her ears.

He rushed through collapsed buildings and dirty ram shackles, disappearing one second and reappearing far ahead at the next. The mystical symbol on the back of his hand glowed brilliantly, but he was too fast for anybody to see it. He moved like a ghost, like a surreal creature that covered itself with a cloak that seemed to be made from the shadows itself.

Then he froze. His dark figure loomed on the sliding rooftop of an abandoned building. The moon seemed to be right behind him, casting a faint border on his mystical form, right from his broad shoulders to his feet. The ends of his dark coat fluttered in the wind as he looked ahead of him - at the dark clouds that drifted by at incredible speed. It was like the time was rushing ahead, as if the whole world was in a hurry, and the clouds billowed and faded and rearranged themselves in front of his eyes.

A figure appeared beside him, standing at a distance, almost at the edge of the rooftop. This one was unlike the masked man. The second figure stood straight, shoulders forming a perfect line, head held neither too high nor too low, but positioned right at the masked figure. The second one had a different aura, like a sense of something accomplished. He had a deep scar running along a side of his face, and a wide forehead, below which were two piercing, cold grey eyes. They were staring right at the masked man.

When the second man spoke, his voice was low, almost hoarse, husky. It sounded like the voice of someone who had a thousand secrets, and not just any secrets - but the secrets of the most dangerous kind - the ones that would never be revealed.

He said, ' Killing me hasn't changed much, has it?'

It wasn't a question, because both of them knew the answer and were completely aware of the fact. It was a mere statement, a truth so obvious that even saying it simply was too much.

The second man stepped forward, slowly, his footsteps echoing in the silent night. His red coat fluttered, revealing his brown boots and his empty scabbard.

'How is the empire, Corvo?' He spoke, stepping around him. Corvo made no attempt to look at him, but simply held his eyes on the rapidly shifting form of the clouds. His entire being was inclined on the man's words, because he spoke the ugly truth that he himself would never admit.

'Has the Plague passed?' The man continued, circling him slowly, never taking his cold stare away from him. 'Has the city been rebuilt? Are the streets echoing with the sounds of people's laughter and children's joy?' He stopped beside him, and said, 'Has our black-eyed friend spared you some ill fate yet? And the most important thing . . .' He leaned forward and said, ' Has your Empress risen up from the dead?'

Corvo clenched his fists, and turned to him. He had no answer, and that was the worst part, because now he was exposed, like a raw burning wound on someone's skin. Only his mask saved him from utter failure, because his helplessness was not visible openly.

'See?' Daud said, stepping back. He bent his head to the side, to expose his neck, and there it was - a deep cut, reaching as far into his flesh as to expose the veins. Blood gushed out of it,trickling down his shoulders, staining his red robe to a vile crimson. 'That will never heal, and it will never stop bleeding,' he raised his head again, and his cold grey eyes bore into Corvo's skull.

'Just like your conscience, which will never cease to bleed. Also like your Empress, who will never come back to life,' He stepped back, moving away from him. Corvo looked at the assassin anxiously, even though he knew every word he was going to say.

'Vengeance is not a finale, Corvo, Lord Protector, it's a game. It's an endless game, an endless circle of ugly events ending in blood and gore. I asked you for my life, and you refused.' His form seemed to dissolve in the air slowly as he walked away and turned to the moon. He looked back at Corvo one last time, and spoke the words that he dreaded, that always rang in his ears and haunted his thoughts.

'Now it's my turn.'

Corvo opened his eyes, and instead of the clouds, he saw a wooden ceiling - the ceiling of his four poster bed. His breathing was a little faster than usual, and he could feel his heart pumping against his chest. Under normal circumstances, he loved the feeling, the banging of his heart and the shortness of his breath, because it made him feel alive. Lately, he had come to dread the same sensation because of his dreams. He closed his eyes slowly for a few seconds and took a deep breath. Daud's voice kept echoing in his head, and the vision of his wounded throat kept flashing in front of his eyes, but he had learned to endure it. He opened them again and sat up to look at the clock.

5:00.

The view outside his window was of the tower veiled by a thick bluish morning fog, drifting in a calm pace, reminding him vaguely of the clouds from his dream. His white coloured cotton shirt was drenched in his sweat. It was a thin material, full sleeved with buttons that ended half way down his chest. He sighed and pulled it off. He threw it aside and rested his elbows on his knees, looking at nowhere in particular.

It had been a year since the Reign of Lord Regent had ended, and about eleven months since Emily had been crowned. There was still panic in the city, although it was less when compared to before. Anton Sokolov and Piero Jeoplin were on the verge of creating a cure for the plague, but there still seemed to be something missing in their efforts.

Nothing had changed much, except that there had been fewer killings and unexplained disappearances.

He stood up and walked into the bathroom. He had to report in the courtyard at six o'clock, and arrange the security patterns around the tower. At six thirty, he had to patrol in the corridor of Empress Emily Kaldwin's chambers while she finished her morning works. At seven, she would step out with her servant, and would walk to the breakfast table with her servant and The lord protector by her side. By eight, she would be present at the court, and then the hectic schedule would commence.

Corvo spent about ten minutes in the shower and used the rest of the time to dress himself. He never left out a single loose detail in his attire, because he was one of the most important figures of the Empire's defence, and he was expected to look as proper as possible. Even a single flaw in his manners or dressing could raise a hundred eyebrows in the court, especially because he was not only Corvo Attano, The lord protector, but also The Corvo who had a lot of accusations on his head. It began with the accusation of killing the Empress, which was still brought up occasionally, inspite of Empress Emily presenting herself as a witness, and it went on up to using Black magic.

And most of it was true.

Nobody dared to question his authority or position, especially in the presence of The Empress, but when he spent a few moments alone, he could feel a hundred suspicious eyes, hear a thousand accusing whispers.

Some of them had been ridiculous, infact, so utterly hopeless that they made him laugh whenever he thought of them. There was one that accused him of making an army of witches and assassins, to attack the Empire. He had heard it at a Royal Ball, and had stood pale for a second, unable to decide how he could react - he didn't know if he could laugh at it, or sniffle. The next second, he ended up laughing, loud and clear among the crowd. He earned a lot of weird glances and a few women even walked away like they feared him. That satisfied him. The look on their faces had been priceless.

But these things bothered him only when he was not around Lady Emily, when he was alone in his bed, or washing his face in the bathroom. When Emily was around him, his mind only concentrated on her and people around her, studying every detail of every person, remaining at high alert. One hand of his was wrapped around the hilt of his sword most of the time. When people spoke to him, he merely glanced at them and gave them one word replies. He only spoke properly to the guards or the soldiers, sometimes even overseers, and only about matters concerning the safety of The Empress. On duty, the only person he could ease up to was Lady Emily, because he had always held a soft spot for her, she was like a sister to him. Sometimes he even dared to think of her as a child he never had, and that compelled him to protect her even more.

But Lately, there had been a few disturbances in his behavior.

They were obvious only to him, because they originated in his mind, and in his conscience. Sometimes on duty, he would look around to find a shadow, a dark, looming presence among the people, and the next second, it was gone. Sometimes he heard screams, and they weren't strange, because they were the grunts and voices of the people he had killed.

Two memories haunted and disturbed him the most - the memory of Empress Jessamine Kaldwin being stabbed by a man, the vision of her lifeless body sinking to the ground, the memory of her life ebbing out of her body.

The second was the memory of slitting the throat of the one who had murdered her, the memory of his form falling down a rooftop, the feeling of his blood splattered on his knuckles.

The second memory had initially given him a sick pleasure, a hot satisfaction in his chest. For a few months, he smiled to himself when he recalled it, especially at moments when he saw Jessamine's paintings, or found Emily lost in thought, a strange misery lingering in her eyes.

But that was only for a while.

Slowly the pleasure decreased, and the memory didn't fill up the hole in his heart anymore. The satisfaction vanished little by little, and was replaced by emptiness - empty because he knew nothing had come out of it.

Killing Daud didn't end the Plague - and thats what Jessamine wanted. Killing him didn't spare Emily her pain and agony, she still suffered without any change. Slicing his throat didn't Solve the problems, and it didn't justify for him killing the others.

Then the dreams had begun. They haunted him day and night, although he tried to keep it at minimum on duty. Soon all that came out of the memory was the sensation of blood on his fingers, blood of a living thing, spilled in exchange for the blind pride of revenge.

Corvo sighed. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, at his tired, dark eyes and deep frown. He pushed his hair back and grabbed his sword. He then turned to look at the clock.

5:55.

Willow Ride walked across the huge corridors, smiling half heartedly at whoever wished her.

She clutched a wooden pad in one hand which held a stack of papers. She wore a white formal shirt with short frill borders at the neck. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and on top of the shirt, she wore a black sleeveless vest, buttoned up properly. A loose silver chain hung from the hem of her vest, attached to a hook on the garment, the other end carrying a silver watch that was buried in her pocket. Her black boots made muffled sounds on the carpet as she walked hastily to the courtyard, where she had to give her report to Anton Sokolov and Piero Jeoplin. As she walked across the stone bridge, she saw them at the corner, standing in the balcony, where Sokolov stood admiring the view while Piero sipped his tea sitting by a table.

'Good Morning, Sir,' she smiled at Piero, who simply nodded at her. She was accustomed to his empty responses, because she knew that when he seemed lost, his mind was at work, deducting possibilities and trying to make the impossible possible. She stepped to Sokolov and stood a few inches behind him.

The Royal Physician turned, and said, 'Lovely morning, Miss Ride. I just finished my tea. Great flavour, especially with the lemon. Would you like some?'

'No, thank you,' she answered simply. She stepped forward and handed him the report. It was concerned with the status of a few weepers from their lab, and it was her responsibility to check on them, to administer the doses of medicine, to take a full report of their behaviour and health.

She was their apprentice, and someday, if something unfortunate happened to Sokolov, she was to take his place as the Royal Physician.

Sokolov studied the pages carefully, turning them over one by one. His steel grey eyes moved rapidly from sentence to sentence, and when he was done, he took a deep breath.

'Well,' he uttered. 'Not bad. Subject 5, 8 and 11 have shown remarkable improvement.'

'The others?' Willow asked, looking at him.

'It depends on the strength of their systems and the extent of sickness, Ride. I'm definite that they will show improvement too, very soon. Me and Piero have just come out of the lab for a little refreshment. We're working on adding a new herb to the medicine, which will boost up its performance.'

'Thats good news, sir,' she gave a little smile.

'It will undoubtedly enhance the quality of the elixir by three times,' Piero spoke, looking at the horizon. 'And it will be the same price, so it will be available to even the poorest people in the kingdom. If used continuously for eight years, it will completely wipe out the rat plague.'

'When do I start using it on the Weepers, sir?' Willow asked them.

There were distant sounds of marching from under the bridge, and a few soldiers walked past, assembling to their guarding duties.

'We will give you the doses by today evening, if possible,' Sokolov answered. His eyes drifted to the bridge, and he said, 'Welcome back, Corvo.'

The Lord Protector walked across the bridge, looking at Piero and Sokolov. He smiled at them, an empty, meaningless smile.

Willow bowed her head and stepped back as he walked past.

'Good Morning, Miss Ride,' he uttered, and she smiled. He wished Piero and Sokolov with more familiarity, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that he was troubled. He didn't say much, and only gave half hearted responses. Then he walked away, saying that it was time for his duty.

As he walked into the gates, Sokolov spoke, 'Now there's a man that will never receive the glory he's worth.'

'I do not think that bothers him much,' Piero said, his eyes still on the horizon. 'However, it is still shameful that the Empire does not trust him, even after all he's done.'

'They say he worships The Outsider,' Sokolov said, stroking his mane. 'That he has seen and spoken to That God himself.'

'Now don't include your personal interests into this, Sokolov. We all know they are just worthless rumors. He is a good man, and deserves much more than he's presented with.' Piero looked at her. 'Do you believe the rumours?' He asked.

Willow Ride had spent nearly three years as Sokolov's apprentice, so she knew all about him, all about his interests, especially his interest in The Outsider. She had seen runes in his labs, had discovered scribblings of strange prayers and rituals in his desks, and she had even asked him directly. Anton Sokolov admitted, and even told her things about The Outsider, because he trusted her.

Unlike many others, the Outsider never scared her, or fascinated her. To her he was just another subject, something she wasn't really interested in. That was the reason why she had remained as Sokolov's apprentice for so long, because his strange interests never bothered her.

Being in service for three years, she had personally witnessed the final year of Empress Jessamine's reign, and also Her Lord Protector, Corvo Attano.

At a few occasions when she had seen him and spoken to him, he seemed like any other soldier - sincere, dedicated. His eyes were always alert, he never seemed to drift away or think of anything else except his duty. He protected The Empress like she was a Goddess, and in his presence, no one had even dared to speak ill to her.

But she had also seen him fight, and the vision still haunted her sometimes, because when he fought, he was like a demon. He looked like his only purpose was killing, taking away someone's life, much like a wolf with a sick bloodlust. Some of the soldiers trembled when he practiced.

'Not all of them,' she answered to Piero. 'But he is a good man, as you said.'

**I hope you liked it. Please leave a review! Constructive criticism also welcome! And if you want to simply bash me about something go ahead.**

**Please also tell me what you think of Willow Ride.**

**Thank you so much for reading!**

**xoxoxoxo**


	2. The mysteries of His mind

**Two** - The Mysteries Of His Mind

Corvo bowed his head and held out his hand. Lady Emily grasped it gently and walked up the stairs to her throne. She nodded at the court and took her seat slowly, following which the officials seated themselves. Corvo stood beside her throne, watching their faces carefully. He looked up. The balconies had two guards each, and alarms had been placed everywhere, just as he had ordered. The doors were also properly guarded.

'Sleep well, Corvo?' Emily asked, looking up at him with an innocent smile.

He lowered his head and smiled gently. 'Yes, My Lady. And I hope you have too.'

'I slept fine. A few disturbing dreams, but thats all.'

When they weren't in court, Corvo didn't address her formally, He just called her 'Emily' and that was how she preferred it too. He even gave her rides on his back, and played hide and seek with her. When she lost her doll, he always found it for her, and if it couldn't be found, he just got a new one for her. He was her only substitute for family.

Anna Maria Bridges was her tutor, a respected lady of 50 years, who also taught her court etiquette and behaviour. She took care of Emily like a sister, and among all of Emily's servants, Anna Maria earned Corvo's complete trust. He was still paranoid, but he was confident about leaving Emily with her in a room, as long as there was a guard outside.

She was now standing on the other side of the throne, smiling at Emily as she spoke to her.

In a while, after the announcements were made, the day of appeals and debates began, and Emily sat in her throne, listening to each one carefully, weighing its worth and seeking advice, while Corvo stood by her, observing everyone and everything.

When Emily asked for water, he fetched it for her.

The weepers moaned and groaned, and dragged themselves across their cells, occasionally reaching out to grab hold of Willow as she stood observing them. There were a total of twenty five cells, one weeper in each. She stood in front of each cell, observing their movements, their eyes, their voices and actions, and took down notes on the papers.

Piero and Sokolov were behind a closed door, the forbidden room in their lab where they formulated the elixir. Their laboratory was in fact an entire floor with five rooms, and it was the floor with the least number of guards. There were only a total of four guards, and they stayed in the corridors. Sokolov and Piero both hated strangers interrupting their work, and had strictly ordered the watch to never enter the rooms. The weeper cells were in the last room, and a row of cells ran on each side. It was the dirtiest room on the floor, because most of the servants refused to even enter the place. The weepers terrified them.

Willow was different, because she didn't fear them. Her feelings towards weepers and plague rats were just like her feelings towards The Outsider. She stayed clear of them, but still did her job perfectly.

After the last weeper had been examined, she went back into the main hall of the lab and locked the weeper cell room.

She placed the reports in the desk and went ahead to work on her own thesis, which did not concern The Plague.

Willow was interested in the mind, The human brain. Not as a simple organ or such, but the part that thought, feared and felt. She wanted to decode it. Sokolov knew about her interests, and had been impressed to find a woman in such a field. He had given her his full permission to carry out her studies - as long as it didn't interfere with his work or her duties.

'Maybe someday,' he had said, 'You'll be known for it. Probably even become a great philosopher. Not as great as me, but as close as you can get.'

She smiled remembering those words. His pride and cocky attitude had definitely irked her in the beginning, but with time, she had gotten used to it. Now she simply smiled when he said something like that, because Sokolov was a complete intellectual. Whatever he spoke, he based it on facts, because they were verifiable. And he himself was a genius, so he never denied it, and appreciated himself the way others would appreciate him. Piero was about the same, but a little more humble when compared to Sokolov.

There was one thing she had always admired in Piero - he never crossed his limits. It wasn't the same with Sokolov. Anton, on the other hand, had been accused in the past of sexual harassment, and Willow was completely aware of it when she took up the job. In the beginning, he had made a few inappropriate comments about her looks, telling her openly that she had a "slender figure" and that her "hindquarters" were worth looking at. She never reacted to any of his comments, but simply acted as if she had never heard them. Sometimes when he touched her face or her waist, she simply acted like his hand wasn't there at all. Soon, Sokolov had stopped any attempt, and treated her like she was a male.

'Ride!' She suddenly heard Sokolov's voice. 'I need 7, 8 and 11 in here, now!'

'Right away, sir!' She shouted back and went to unlock the weeper cells again.

'Oh, and one more thing, Ride!' Sokolov shouted through the closed door. 'You'll have to stay back here for the night, we're almost there and we will be needing your assistance!'

By the end of the day, Emily was tired. It was nine when she finished her dinner and walked up to her chambers to shower and change. Anna Maria accompanied her, and assisted her in changing her clothes and combing her hair. Corvo's duties formally ended at the same time, but he never took an easy way. He stayed awake till ten thirty, patrolling on the Empress' floor, until Anna Maria herself walked out to her chamber beside Emily's and informed him that she was asleep. Then he would linger around for another hour, checking and cross checking the night watch, the alarms and the guards. If he found any guard showing any sign of weakness or fatigue, he immediately dismissed him and appointed a replacement.

After he was fairly convinced that the night watch was tight, he retired to his own chambers, which was at the corner of the floor. It was his own demand to be given a room on the same floor as that of The Empress, so he was well within her reach at all times. Nobody argued with him on that matter, because everyone was convinced that he knew best about The Empress' safety.

That night, he was walking back to his chambers, relieving himself of his duty, when suddenly the vision flashed in front of his eyes again. The vision of the sliced throat, the memory of blood.

He stopped for a second, leaning against the wall, looking at the floor. The symbol on his hand was burning under his gloves, and he winced.

A patrol guard was walking by, and he looked at Corvo.

'Is everything alright, sir?' He asked, stepping towards him. Corvo answered without looking at him, burying his burning hand in his pocket.

'I'm fine, go ahead,' he said, and the guard resumed walking. Corvo waited for a few seconds while the pain passed by. It happened a lot lately, when he wasn't on his duty, his mark would start burning, and would continue to burn for a few seconds, and cease abruptly.

He took a few deep breaths and walked into his chamber. He shut the door behind him and went to the window. He opened it wide, looking out at the city, wrapped in darkness. He could see the black waters of the river, flowing steadily ahead. His chamber was towards the East of the tower, so he couldn't see the Kaldwin's bridge. He sighed and looked down at his hands. He pulled out his gloves and looked at the black mark. A wave of memories flooded him, and he remembered how he felt when he was in The Void : empty.

Like he had no body or weight. He felt like a spirit, wandering through an undefined space. He remembered the black eyes, the deep words.

It had been nearly ten months since he had visited The Outsider's shrines. He couldn't risk doing that now, because the Overseers were already on his tail and were only looking for a chance to pounce on him. But he needed to see him. He had to know why the mark burned like it did, and why Daud haunted his dreams like a spirit.

He turned around and looked at the navy blue carpet on the floor. He took a deep breath and rolled it in until it exposed the wooden floor. He pulled out a plank with his hands to reveal a chest hidden under it.

He held the golden handles and pulled it out, setting the plank back in its place. He set the carpet again with his feet, and gently placed the chest on his bed. He could feel his mark burning again as he walked to the door and locked it up. He then opened the chest to reveal a fist sized mass of flesh.

The Heart.

He held it, and slowly got up. He pointed it out at the window, and closed his eyes.

'They still roam the streets,' the voice whispered in his ears. 'Children are crying in the dark, and the hounds howl at them. Such sorrow.'

He placed his elbows on the window pane, making sure that the heart was in the shadows.

'The ruler of this land cries in the dark, wrapped in robes of silk and chiffon. She is all alone, and alas, only a child.'

He felt a sudden pang of guilt in his chest. He had known for a while now, that when Emily was alone, she wept. He had seen her crying in her bed once, and was about to go in to comfort her, but something stopped him.

'I hear a new voice,' The Heart whispered. 'A woman. Alone in her chamber. I wish you could hear her thoughts. She is sad, angry.'

Corvo looked at the heart. Sometimes it spoke irrelevant things, of people lost in the City, of lonely guards in the night. But all of it was a part of the cacophony, and a story within the city. Sometimes he preferred listening to the stories of strangers, because it somehow comforted him,at least a little.

'Her mother was killed when she was a child. She seeks enlightenment of a sort,' Corvo looked down at the courtyard, but saw no one. 'She works with two of the most brilliant minds of the Age, but tends to the walking dead. Her passion will never be recognised, or appreciated, only because she is a woman.'

Corvo remembered Willow Ride, and pursed his lips. He had always known that there was something about her that kept people away, and that she preferred to stay away from them. He remembered seeing her a number of times before Jessamine was killed. Whatever she did, her face was always the same, like she was incapable of human emotion. Her lips were always a straight line - neither a smile, nor a frown. Her eyebrows were low, and her dark eyes were always busy, because she kept working, and whenever he looked at her, she seemed to be engaged in some type of activity.

She looked like she treated her work more as a distraction, and not simply passion.

'There are disabled people at the foot of the tower,' It whispered. ' They extend their hands and beg for food, but all that falls is a crooked coin.'

Corvo walked back to the chest and carefully placed the heart inside. He sat down on his bed and looked at the sky. It looked just like the vision from his dream, except the fact that the clouds barely moved.

He was afraid. Afraid of sleeping, because he knew that The Master Assassin would return again, and leave another grim message. He knew that he would feel the sensation of having innocent blood on his hands, and see the lifeless eyes of the people he had killed. He felt dirty, like he was covered all over in blood. He wanted to run away, to a place far away where his own conscience couldn't find him. He wanted to be like Willow Ride - incapable of feeling.

Then all his worries would be gone.

He placed the chest back in the floor and undressed. He simply wore his black cotton night pants and lay back on his bed, bare chested. He took a shaky breath, and closed his eyes.

He had expected to find himself blinking through rooftops again, but he found himself in the courtyard, and exactly at the place where Daud had killed Empress Jessamine.

He looked down at the marble flooring, but it was empty. Her grave was missing. He reached for his sword, but his scabbard was empty. He panicked silently as his eyes glanced around.

There were thick creepers growing on the pillars, and even covered half of the floor. In the distance, he could see the tower - it had collapsed. A tall, thick, twisted tree arose from the ruins, and creepers had covered all the rubble. Only a corner of the structure was still intact, covered with Ivy and vines.

'You keep coming back to me,' A familiar voice echoed in a distance. Corvo turned around, and found the man he was looking for. His back was turned to Corvo, and he stood looking over the fencing, hands folded behind him.

'It's you that keeps coming back,' Corvo said, stepping towards him. 'What do you want?'

'What do I want?' Daud asked, without turning back. 'Does my wanting anything really matter? I'm dead,' He rested his hands on the fencing and looked down at the waters.

'Why are you here?' Corvo asked. 'I know I'm not simply dreaming. Then I wouldn't be conscious of whatever is happening here.'

'If you say so,' Daud replied and slowly turned to look at him. He folded his hands behind him again, and walked forward. 'What if you had a second chance at this, Corvo?' He spoke, looking at the collapsed tower.

'At what?' Corvo asked, narrowing his eyes.

'Now you know the aftermath of all you've done,' Daud said, 'You know what you get when you go after blood.'

Corvo clenched his fists.

'What if you could go back in time, and have a second chance to get things done? Would you still chase after blood?'

Corvo's mind reeled in confusion. He had never even dared to think of that part of his life, never. He had avoided it on purpose. He had far more important duties to bother about the past. His eyes widened in the confusion, turning to the floor. It was like the question had set up a series of visions in his mind - the killing of the Empress, the hot branding sword of the Torturer, the burning, glowing mark that suddenly appeared on his hand - and voices in his head, the noise of a few people speaking all at once -

'You'll know what to do, won't you, Corvo?'

'The man's a whirlwind.'

'Corvo, it's you!'

'Sometimes when you come home, you smell like blood.'

'You have done in one night what others would do in a lifetime.'

'Good luck, Corvo. If anyone deserves it, you do.'

'Please don't kill me!'

'I ask you for my life.'

'Something to think over, isn't it?' Daud spoke. 'If you ask me the same, I'd choose to kill your Empress again, and again, and again -'

Corvo clenched Daud's neck, and pushed him against the pillar. He squeezed it slowly.

'Don't you dare!' He yelled at the top of his voice.

'Stop!' The voice wasn't Daud's, but he had spoken it. Corvo's hand loosened for a second, because he recognised the voice. 'Let me go!'

Corvo opened his eyes, and found two eyes - wide, filled with terror. The brown orbs flickered, and then the eyes shut down tight, long eyelashes crumbling in the folds.

He found himself at the edge of his bed, lying on his stomach, his fingers closed around the neck of a familiar form, pressing it against the edge of his bedside desk. Short nails clawed at his wrist and fingers desperately.

Realisation flooded him, and he pulled back immediately, getting out of his covers. He knelt on the floor in front of a crumbled form of Anton Sokolov's apprentice.

She lay on the floor, her back pressed against the table, one hand holding the edge of the bed, drawing in large quantities of air, coughing.

Corvo looked at her for a few seconds, lost in confusion. He then rushed to his study and grabbed the glass of water he had reserved for himself, and handed it to her. Her trembling fingers reached for the glass, and he decided that she wasn't in a state to do anything, so he pressed the glass against her lips. She gulped in a little, and started coughing again.

'What are you - ' he almost mumbled to himself as he set the glass aside. She moved, and placed both her hands on the bed, pressing her forehead against the cold wood, panting.

'Why are you here?' He asked, holding out his hands on her sides limply. He didn't touch her, but she looked like she could collapse any moment, and he wanted to make sure there were no more accidents.

'Sokolov-' she panted, and gulped. ' He wanted - the key to his cabinet - its with Anna Maria. . .'

' It's alright,' he mumbled, and gulped. ' You can speak after you're fine...'

He hadn't yet recovered from the shock, and it was slowly sinking in - he had attacked someone in his sleep, thinking that it was Daud.

He nearly killed her.

'I didn't know - ' he gulped nervously, looking at her. ' Please forgive me, I don't know how it happened, I ...' His voice drifted away as she looked at him, and her eyes were wet.

'Anna Maria had Sokolov's cabinet key,' she spoke in a hoarse voice. She cleared her throat, and continued, 'I came up here to get it, and I heard thrashing from your room, and the sound of something breaking . . . So I looked inside, and saw . .'

She looked away from him, at the floor beside her legs. There lay broken pieces of a glass ashtray.

She cleared her throat again. 'You looked like you were throwing a fit,' she said, looking back at him. 'I wanted to call the city watch for help, but . . .' Her voice drifted away, and her eyes fell down on his hands - on his left hand.

Corvo's eyes widened in realisation. He looked at her for a few seconds, trying to absorb the fact.

'It was glowing,' she mumbled, looking back at his face. Her expression didn't change. She wasn't surprised or shocked or scared, only intrigued. She still knew that it was a sensitive matter, so she said nothing else about it. For a few seconds, her eyes fell on his chest, his sweaty, bruised skin, rough with marks of second degree burns and deep cuts and scratches, and bullet wounds.

She looked away, after noticing the obvious signs of physical torture.

'Sokolov was right . . 'She mumbled, looking at the Mark.

**What do you think? Please leave a review!**

**Next chapter : Corvo speaks to her in person. And a few other things.**

**Thank you for reading!**

**xoxoxoxoxo**


	3. You are Not Broken, Only Bent

**So I know in the last chapter I promised that Corvo would speak to Willow, but when I wrote this down, other stuff came up, except that.**

**My apologies.**

**One of my favourite characters from the game is here though!**

**Enjoy!**

**Three** - You Are Not Broken, Only Bent

'Well,' Sokolov exhaled, with a smile on his face. He stroked his beard, looking at the vial of the red liquid that lay on the table. 'This is it.'

'Will it really end the plague?' Willow asked, placing her notes on a shelf. 'I think it should be tested thoroughly before presenting it to the court, sir.'

Sokolov turned to look at her, his smile fading. 'Do you doubt two of the Greatest Geniuses of The Empire?' He said, his voice rising.

'No, of course not,' she mumbled, looking away.

'She is right, Sokolov. We must use this on the test subjects for at least a week before getting it into court,' Piero nodded. 'Although if you ask me, I'd say none of that is necessary, considering the formula. But the court will seek evidence of the elixir's effects.'

Sokolov sighed heavily. 'I suppose you're right.' He took the elixir vial in his hands and raised it to the light. 'It's perfect. The opacity, the composition . . . ' he lowered it, and turned it around in his fingers. He handed it out to Willow.

'Use this on subject 11,' he said to her. Willow nodded, taking the vial in her hands.

'We will start preparing more, right now,' Piero said, looking at the cauldron in the middle of the lab.

'We cannot take the least bit of chance, Ride,' Sokolov said to her. 'Do not ignore any detail. No matter how tiny it is. For six days, stay back in the tower. I will have your room and clothes arranged.'

'Yes sir.'

'I'm trusting you with this, Ride. If you do your job flawlessly for these six days, and the elixir turns out to be successful - which I'm sure it will - I will give you the freedom to work on your thesis for a month.'

Willow looked at him, her eyes widening. It was rare for her to show such an open emotion, the feeling of surprise and joy.

'I will also provide the necessary equipment and books, if you want.'

Willow cleared her throat. She felt like her chest was bloating, and at any second it would explode because of the excitement. 'Yes sir. I will do my job,'She tried to sound calm, but her voice trembled.

'Good.' Sokolov nodded. 'Now off to work!'

Willow grabbed the notes and rushed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

She thought of all the days she had spent in her room, trying to get a thesis written, feeling lost and powerless. If Sokolov helped her with it, provided her with the necessary material, she could definitely get it right.

She unlocked the Weeper cell, pulling on her mask onto her face.

Corvo walked along with Emily in the courtyard, accompanying her while she looked at the place.

'It's such a nice day, isn't it?' She asked, smiling up at him. He nodded at her, subconsciously giving her a half hearted smile. Emily looked at him for a while, her smile fading. She stopped walking and turned to him.

In a distance, there was the sound of a Tall Boy patrolling the main ground in front of the tower, and it made a disturbing tremor every five seconds.

'I hate those things, Corvo. They're so noisy,' she said, looking past the bridge.

'I hate them too, trust me,' Corvo accepted, remembering the hard times he had spent trying to sneak out without catching their notice. 'But none the less , they make excellent patrols.'

Emily looked around, making sure that no one was looking at them, and then stuck her tongue out in an expression of disgust.

Corvo grinned at her, and said, 'Lets hope Madame Bridges didn't see that.'

Emily smiled, and moved to the fencing. 'Can you lift me up, Corvo?" She asked, looking at the fencing. Her head barely made it above. 'I want to look at the city.'

'As you wish, My Little Empress,' he smiled, and lifted up her light body. He seated her on his right shoulder, holding on to her feet with one hand and her shoulder with the other. Emily leaned forward and looked at the sight before her eyes, watching the whole city. Her expression changed from excitement to sadness. Her big eyes turned dull, and her mouth presses into a straight line.

'How will I do this, Corvo?' She asked, moving her eyes along the horizon, watching the collapsed buildings, the dirty towers. Lonely ships moved in, carrying live whales, which still sang painful songs. Corvo said nothing, and simply looked at the city.

'I try to feel sorry for all those people, but I can't. I don't know why . .' She mumbled, as her eyes welled up. 'I don't like people, Corvo. And there are so many of them here. And all they do is blame me and scold me and insult me. And I remember The Golden Cat, all those dirty people, it was so disgusting . . . And the way Havelock dragged me and yelled at me, and . . . ' her voice drifted away. Corvo listened solemnly. A part of him was glad that she was sharing her pain with her. When he looked back at his own past, and then at hers, he realised that she had been through more sorrow and pain than he had, and she still smiled. A bitter pain gripped his heart, and he held her shoulder tightly.

'The way Mother was killed. After seeing all that, I feel like . . .' She gulped, wiping her tears that had begun to roll down her cheeks. 'I feel like people deserve all this!'

Corvo gently set her down on her feet, and hugged her. He held her tight against his chest, and felt her back shaking, her hot tears touching the back of his ear. She wrapped her arms around him, and wept.

'I understand,' Corvo whispered to her. 'But the people who did all those horrible things, they met their fate. They're gone,' he said to her, stroking the back of her head. 'Now there are more good people. And they need an Empress like you.'

'I know . . .' She mumbled, and took a deep shaky breath. 'I just feel lonely - sometimes . .'

'I'm here, Emily, okay?' Corvo said gently. 'In case you didn't notice, I'm always around you.'

'Sometimes I get scared at night, Corvo,' she mumbled. 'Can I come to your room?' She asked, her big eyes looking into his.

'Of course you can, Emily. You can be wherever you want,' he said to her. She nodded, and pulled back. 'Thanks, Corvo,' she touched his hair, and stroked a brown wisp in the front. 'You really should get a haircut,' she smiled. 'And shave . .'

Corvo laughed, and hugged her again. He could feel his heart getting lighter, now that Emily had spoken to him. Suddenly, an idea crossed his mind.

'Emily,' he said, and pulled back. 'Do you remember Samuel The Boatman?'

Emily's eyes narrowed as she looked up, and then her face lit up as she spoke, 'The sailor?'

'Would you like to meet him?' He asked, remembering the Hound Pits Pub. He wasn't really fond of that place, especially because of his memories. But since Samuel had begun to run it, with Cecelia and her husband, the place had gotten warmer, and he almost felt the same way as he did back at his home in Serkonos, during his childhood. He could remember a warm fireplace, a soft chair, and a comforting book. He could almost see his mother, seated on a couch beside the fireplace, knitting a cloth, smiling at him.

'Am I allowed to?' She asked, her smile reducing, as she looked around at all the fences and guards.

Corvo took a deep breath. 'You are The Empress,' he told her. 'Do not let those court officials get to you. You can do as you please, as long as you harm no one. They follow the rules made by you, Emily.'

Emily looked down. 'Thats what Anna Maria says,' she mumbled. 'And I'm trying.'

'I will take you to him, alright?' Corvo said. He knew that Emily enjoyed the company of Adventurers and story tellers, and Samuel could tell her a lot. It would be a little change for her, something that she can probably smile about remembering. She already had a lot to cry over.

By three o'clock in the afternoon, Emily retired to her bedroom, complaining to be sick. Corvo was with her in her chamber, and so was Anna Maria.

Two servants bowed their heads as they helped The Empress into her bed and stepped back. Anna Maria covered Emily with the blanket, and dismissed the servants. As soon as the door closed, Emily sat up, smiling.

'Can we go now? Please, please, please?' She begged, looking at Corvo. Corvo stared at her for a few seconds, and uttered, 'You faked it?'

'Of course I did!'

'Oh dear God,' Anna Maria mumbled, looking at Emily. 'But, My Lady, why?'

'He promised!' She exclaimed, pointing at Corvo. Corvo raised his hands and shook his head as Anna Maria turned to him, wide eyed.

'We could just take a leave, Emily,' Corvo said, looking back at her. 'Now I'll have to sneak you out of the tower!'

'My Lady,' Anna Maria said, stepping closer to Emily. 'Do you wish to go into the city?' She asked.

'Can't I?' Emily asked, frustrated.

'Of course you can, Lady Emily. You can just make an appeal to General Eyas and he would have gladly escorted you there,' she smiled, raising her eyebrows. ' and Corvo would go with you too.'

'Well, can I make the appeal now?' Emily asked, looking at Corvo, and then back at Anna Maria.

'I will inform him right away, alright?' Anna Maria said. 'You better get ready, My Lady.'

Emily sighed, and looked down at her hands. 'I'm sorry,' she mumbled. 'I thought we'll have to do something really exciting to get out of the tower. I was trying to help.'

'I understand,' Anna Maria nodded, and bowed. She walked out of the door and closed it behind her.

'You managed to convince all the guards,' Corvo smiled at her. 'Very smart, indeed.'

'But it was useless in the end, wasn't it?'

'Thats alright. You still did a good job.'

'I guess,' she mumbled and looked at him. Her eyebrows lowered. 'I thought I could see you using magic again,' she said.

Corvo's heart skipped a beat. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

She had always known that he could do strange things, from the time she met him again in Hound Pits. When he was asleep, she had seen the mark on the back of his hand, and on one night, it was glowing. She never mentioned it to him, or asked him, but from the way she glanced anxiously at his hand on a few occasions, Corvo had understood. He never mentioned it to her either, but sometimes, it slipped her tongue.

'Does nobody else know?' She asked, looking up at his face.

Corvo remembered last night, the terrified brown eyes and the coughs and pants. After explaining to him the reason of her visit, Willow Ride had simply walked out without mentioning anything about his mark. He had slipped on a robe and tried to follow her, to stop her and try to explain the mark - say anything. But he had stopped at the foot of the stairs, looking up at her as she walked into the lab without turning to look at him. Somehow he knew that she wasn't the kind to rattle about others' secrets, judging from the way she always stayed clear of people. But he wasn't completely convinced. She was Sokolov's apprentice, and The Physician already had dire suspicions on him. What Willow had witnessed would only confirm his doubts, and then he would fall on his tail like The Overseers, although for a different reason.

'I don't know,' Corvo mumbled, looking at the floor. 'Miss Ride saw it last night.'

He didn't want to tell Emily, she was just a child.

'Sokolov's student?' Emily asked. 'Isn't she the one who injects the vaccine to me?'

Corvo nodded, raising his left hand, looking at the black gloves.

'She's strange,' Emily said. 'I like her though, she's smart.'

'You should get changed, Emily,' Corvo reminded her. 'I'll wait outside.'

The Hound Pits pub was nothing like Emily remembered. The three storey building was painted a deep, rich brown and the rooftops were a light blue. The black gate was no longer broken, it was shining and brand new. In the shed, there was a couch and a bookshelf, and it was clean. There was grass in the lawns, and she even found a few flowers near the building.

'I like it like this,' she said to Corvo as he helped her get down the metal coach. The street was deserted, and nobody had known or noticed that The Empress was on her way. There were guards stationed all around the Pub, so Corvo was sure that Samuel must have guessed. He had already told Samuel a few months ago that he would bring Emily back here someday.

He led her into the gate, and found Cecelia in the doorway. She bowed low in front of Emily.

'It's good to see you again, Lady Emily,' she said, and stepped aside.

'Thank you, Its good to see you too,' Emily smiled.

Corvo saw that her face was different now, it was glowing. She wasn't simply faking a smile that would eventually fade into a frown, she was truly happy. In a while, Emily had been thoroughly respected and curtsied to, and she sat down on one of the cushions. Samuel had poured Corvo some wine, and had served Emily with Apple juice. He then sat down in front of her on her insistence, and as Corvo had expected, asked him if he had been to any new lands lately.

Corvo sat at the counter, listening to them.

After a while, Emily wanted to learn how to make tea, an appeal which would be rejected at once in the tower. However, Cecelia nodded and smiled sweetly and lead her behind the counter.

Samuel returned to the counter behind Corvo, and poured him another drink.

'I'm guessing its not very often that you see her smiling back in that place, huh?' He asked Corvo.

'She's been through a lot,' Corvo said, looking at him.

'How are things back at the tower?' Samuel asked. 'Any incidents lately?'

'None, thankfully,' Corvo said. 'I still cannot relax though.'

Samuel nodded, his silver eyes observing him intently. He looked down at the wooden counter and sighed.

'Whats wrong?' Corvo asked, putting his glass down.

'Just a few unsettling rumors going around,' Samuel said. Corvo bent his eyebrows, looking at him.

'About what?' He asked, resting his elbows on the counter. Samuel glanced at Emily, and saw her busy with the stove. He turned back to Corvo.

'Remember when you had that job as the masked felon?' He asked, leaning in. Corvo waited for him to continue.

'And just before you saved Emily from the lighthouse, a big death happened in the city. I'm guessing you know who I'm talking about?' Samuel tilted his head a little. 'It ain't The Regent.'

Corvo exhaled heavily, looking down at his half empty glass, at the pale golden liquid that showed his reflection.

'Daud?' He asked.

Samuel gave a nod. 'That Master Assassin,' he said, observing Corvo carefully. His eyes were suspicious as they looked into his.

Corvo lifted his glass and finished the wine. He put it back on the counter and cleared his throat.

'I killed him,' he confessed, and looked up at Samuel.

'There's nobody else that could,' Samuel gave a half smile. 'But thats not something I didn't know. It was quite obvious, if you ask me.'

'What about him?' He asked, and felt a sudden burn on his hand. He winced and dug his hand into his pocket. Samuel's eyes moved from his pocket to his face. He didn't question him about it.

'There's been a few disturbances lately. Especially in the Legal District,' Samuel explained. 'Them Assassins been out there taking down noblemen and women. Seven dead so far.'

Corvo's eyes widened in shock. His mouth was agape as he looked at Samuel. Nobody had even mentioned any such thing in court. He glanced at Emily, who smiled at him and pointed at the brewing pot of tea. Cecelia stood beside her, her head bent low, with a faint smile.

'I wouldn't be surprised if you never heard of this,' Samuel said, like he had read his mind. 'They were killed only yesterday morning. The General's probably still in shock.'

'Seven killed at once, and nobody knew?' Corvo asked in a straight tone.

'There's more,' Samuel cleared his throat. 'They got a new leader, and this one doesn't seem to be so keen on secrecy.'

The aroma of tea filled the air as Cecelia helped Emily take off the boiling pot.

'From what I heard, it was a head on attack. The Whalers never tried to sneak or snoop. They ran right past the city guards, in the street lights. But they were so fast, nobody could catch them.'

Corvo stared at the wooden counter, and slowly pulled his hand out. It had stopped burning.

He knew what followed such incidents, he had seen it a thousand times in Empress Jessamine's court. The officials stood up and pointed at the ruler, and blamed her and questioned her. That was at the beginning. The next day they would debate among themselves, and it would get ugly, because usually they started throwing things at each other, or engaged in fist fights.

The third day they would all be exhausted, and would simply turn to the ruler again, not with eyes of blame, but with eyes of fear and helplessness.

But Emily was just a child. She was sensitive. She couldn't take on all the blame.

'Thats bad,' Corvo mumbled.

'Bad news for Her Highness,' Samuel said, looking at him. 'Horrible news for you, Corvo.'

Corvo looked up at him, their eyes meeting in a common understanding.

The assassins had attacked in light. They had killed too many people at once. They weren't simply carrying out orders, they were working for something higher than just money.

They were looking to catch attention.

'Is it all locked up?' Sokolov asked, stepping out of the room with Piero.

Willow was seated on the long table in the main room, verifying the day's notes with yesterdays, looking for any tiny detail of improvement. She nodded at Sokolov, and got back to her papers. The metal door to the weepers' cells was locked, shut tight.

'Also,' Willow said, standing up. She walked to Sokolov and Piero, holding the notes in her hand.

'Subjects 7 and 11 have shown remarkable improvement. I don't think we should be keeping those two in cells any longer,' she handed the papers to Piero. 'They are even speaking, although most of it is mindless chatter.'

Piero examined the notes thoroughly. 'No blood from the eyes? And they're not coughing out blood either . . .' His monotonous expression didn't change, but his voice showed that he was glad. 'Proper speech, upright human gait, increased appetite and awareness. I have to say we have truly done it this time. At a remarkable speed also,' he handed the notes to Sokolov, who went through the pages in a few seconds. At the end of it, an arrogant grin spread across his face.

'Well, I wouldn't celebrate just yet,' He said, handing the notes, back to Willow. 'But as a reward to myself, I will dine with steamed Whale meat today, and have a whole bottle of my favourite brandy. Maybe even call for a young sparrow to my bedroom.' He stroked his beard, his fingers bending in extreme angles, showing the full extent of his joy. 'What about you, My Genius friend?' He asked, looking at Piero.

'I will do just fine alone, thank you,' he nodded once at Sokolov. 'I am very keen about veneral diseases.'

'As you please,' Sokolov turned to Willow. 'If you do not have any special plans for tonight, you should probably go get some rest, Ride. It will be another busy day for you tomorrow. And from tomorrow, me and Piero will help you in the job too. So you can retire to your room for tonight. The maids will show you the way. Keep the keys in the draw, the guards are standing watch.'

'Yes sir. Thank you,' Willow answered, and turned away as both of them walked out of the lab.

She arranged the notes according to the dates on the wall, and walked into Sokolov's office, which was a spacious room in the East. The desk was full of books and papers, the files displaced from their shelves. She sighed as she walked to the Oak wood desk, and placed the keys in the first drawer. When she closed it, her eyes fell on the bottom drawer, the one that was always locked.

She knew what was in it. She had all the keys with her in a key ring, because she was responsible for locking everything up by the end of the day. She hesitated for a few seconds, and then pulled out the keys.

She bent down and unlocked the drawer. It was the heaviest of all, and was wrapped on the inside with a purple colored velvet. She saw ancient papers, and the top one had the familiar symbol she hand seen on Corvo Attano's hand : The mark of The Outsider.

She gently pulled out the papers. Some of them were so old that she decided it was better not to touch them. She took the first written paper in her hand, and read it.

' Our Lord is the only one worth worshipping, because he answers our prayer.

He is mighty, feared and respected throughout the world, ours and beyond.

We, who have dedicated our lives to His worship, will wear His symbol on our bodies,

Because it purifies, changes and lifts our souls.

Follow the path set by Him, Brothers, and you will find yourself at the dawn of a new Era,

At the foot of the new sun that rises at the horizon.

For it is He who will bring forth this day upon us, blessing all those who followed him,

While the blind men who dared to oppose Him suffer eternal damnation.'

Her fingers trembled slightly as she placed them back, and picked up a book titled 'The mysteries and findings of The Outsider'

She turned the pages randomly, and found disturbing paintings of rituals that people performed in his name, rituals that she knew had been performed by Sokolov as well. Some of them involved cutting out the Heart of a live Whale and consuming it raw.

She shut the book and placed it back in the drawer. She locked it up, feeling goosebumps on the back of her neck. A strange air seemed to hover around her, and her heartbeat increased, pumping loud against her chest. She could hear a faint voice, an echo, the sound of the whispering of a man. She couldn't understand it, she could barely hear the words. A cold chill passed down her spine as she switched off the lights and walked out of the room. She locked it up hastily, fumbling with the keys for a few seconds.

When she walked towards the door in the dark, she felt a sudden heaviness behind her, the blood chilling sensation of feeling an unexplained presence, an undefined, unreasonable fear. She rushed out of the lab and locked it up, and for the first time in her life, she was happy to see guards.

'Watch well,' she said to the lower watch guard, and walked down the stairs.

The strange sensations had ceased, but her heart still beat loudly. She took a deep breath as she slowly walked down, and all she could remember was Corvo's glowing hand, his writhing, twisting body on the bed, the sudden thrust of his cold, rough fingers on her neck.

She gulped as her fingers touched her neck.

She wasn't afraid of weepers or The Outsider. She was afraid of Corvo Attano.

**So here I am, begging for reviews again. Please please please. **

**And the next chapter is going to have some action, and I don't mean R rated action, btw.**

**No CorvoxWillow yet, sorrryyyyyy.**

**I really hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

**Thank you! Look forward to the next one!**

**xoxoxoxoxo**


	4. Facing The Unexpected

**Four** - Facing The Unexpected

'I'm glad that we went to see Samuel,' Emily smiled as she walked to her chamber.

'Me too,' Corvo agreed, but his eyes seemed to be lost. He wasn't really paying attention to her, his mind was going on and on about the Whalers' attack.

'Its already nine, Corvo,' Emily said to him. 'I'll go sleep now. Anna Maria made me a new fluffy pillow, with cute animals all over.'

'Thats nice of her,' Corvo said.

'I asked her for one,' Emily said, and smiled at Anna Maria who was walking towards them.

'I hope you had a good day, My Lady,' She smiled at her. 'I have arranged your dinner in your chamber.'

'No thanks,' Emily said. 'I'm not really hungry. I would just like to sleep. I'm tired.'

'As you wish, My Lady,' Anna Maria smiled again, and watched her as she went into her chamber.

Her grey hair barely reached beyond her ears, and her clothes were perfect and proper, with not a single thread poking out of the garments. She always held her hands in the front, fingers intertwined, and always stood straight.

She looked at Corvo, and her smile faded.

'High Overseer Sturgess is not happy with Lady Emily's trip, sir,' she said. Corvo nodded, because he had already guessed it by the way the overseers in the courtyard had glanced at him.

'They don't really have anything better to do now, do they?' He grumbled. 'Seven aristocrats dead, and this is what they worry about.'

Anna Maria's eyebrows lowered, and she said, 'You knew?'

Corvo cleared his throat. 'A friend of mine told me,' he explained. 'How did you know?'

'It's spread around like fire, sir,' she said, looking at the wall. 'The maids, the servants, cooks, guards. Everyone is scared. We never imagined the -' she paused for a second and lowered her voice, like she was scared that someone would listen. ' That the Whalers were so strong.'

'Well . .' He uttered, lost in his own thoughts, thinking of Daud, the way he had promised vengeance in his dreams. 'You should retire to your room too, Madame,' he said, and nodded at her. 'Things will be just fine.'

'I'm not worried about Her Highness, sir,' she added, looking at the floor. 'You will protect her. But there are no men like you that can protect us,' she looked up at him, and Corvo saw that her eyes were wet. 'Have a good night's sleep,' she mumbled, bowed low, and left.

Corvo sighed as he turned around to patrol the floor. He didn't like talking to people, especially people in the tower - with the exception of Emily. He hated most of them, although they seemed harmless. There weren't a lot of people that he trusted. The only people that he felt comfortable speaking to were Emily, Samuel, and before her unfortunate death, Jessamine. The list had not been extended beyond the three names.

He looked up, and walked through the corridor, making sure that the guards were present. After his cross checks, he went to his room, changed to his night clothes and sat at the edge of the bed. He looked at the bedside table, at the wooden edge to which he had pressed Willow's neck.

He sighed heavily. An urgency filled him. If Willow had breathed a single word to anybody, The Overseers would hound him. The guards would chain him. The most important of all, he'd be thrown in Coldridge prison again, or worse, hanged.

He would no longer be able to protect Emily.

He ran his fingers through his hair, and thought - He'd have to kill her.

He remembered the secrets about her That the Heart had said to him, and lay back on his bed. The feeling returned to him, the feeling of being dirty, like he was covered all over by blood.

Suddenly he realised - he had always been dirty. He had always had blood on his hands, and the worst part was, it was his job. He had killed people in the past, and his conscience was already burdened.

_Do not jump to conclusions_ , he thought to himself. _Maybe I can speak with her, in person. She can be convinced._

He closed his eyes, and turned in his bed.

Then he got up. The mark on his hand burned again, but he was used it. He got out of his bed and put on a black robe. He strapped on his waist belt, the one with the scabbard. He turned to the Study, and saw his sword. He walked up to it slowly, looking at his reflection in the gleaming silver.

His hair was dis shelved, and dark circles clung under his eyes. He hesitated for a few seconds, and put his sword in the scabbard. He slipped on his gloves, and walked out of his room.

He knocked on Anna Maria's door twice.

She opened the door in a few seconds, surprised to find him awake still.

'Excuse me,' he uttered. 'I just need your help. Do you know Miss Ride's room?'

'Why, yes, but . .' She looked him over suspiciously. 'Sir, the time . .'

'Can you tell me where it is?' He asked, ignoring her words. 'It's important.'

'It's on the roof, sir,' she answered, and the suspicion slowly vanished from her face. 'The room that was previously The Safe Room.'

He nodded and left without saying anything else. Inside, his mind was at war, torn between the need to kill her, and the need to trust her blindly. But he knew better than anyone else, that killing someone did not just end with their life. It took away a little part of him too.

He was already empty, and he was used to ignoring the emotions and pain that welled up when he had to take a life. He could just purse his lips and do it, just like that, the way someone felt while squashing an ant, or plucking a flower from its life source. But when it came to killing someone as uninvolved and innocent as Willow Ride, his hands froze, as if he had suddenly grown a heart. He laughed grimly at the thought.

He climbed the stairs hastily, barefoot. As he entered the roof, he looked at the moon, and found a thin, faint crescent in the navy blue sky.

There were two guards that bowed their heads as he walked past, and went back to their positions. Corvo walked to the door, and knocked on it twice.

'Sir,' One of the guards mumbled behind him. Corvo looked around, and found the lower watch guard handing out a key. 'W -We keep the spare,' he explained as he saw Corvo's glare.

When he was inside, he saw that the room was completely dark, and only faint shadows of the rows of bookshelves were visible. He closed the door and bolted it from the inside, because he hated it when the guards peeked in. He looked up at the stairs, and found a golden light inside the planning room. The wall of light was off, so he could see past clearly. He saw a familiar figure stand up from the table.

Willow walked down the stairs slowly and stopped at the foot. For a second, her mouth was held open, and her chest bloated like she had forgotten how to breathe. Her eyes widened, just the way they had when his fingers pressed around her neck. She looked at the floor, and bowed hesitantly.

'I don't need the formalities,' Corvo said, in a low voice.

He couldn't completely see her in the dark, but saw a faint golden outline of her at the foot of the stairs. Her hair was left open, falling loosely on her shoulders. She wore what seemed to be a man's version of night clothing, with a cream coloured full sleeved shirt that was too big for her, and almost covered her fingers. Below that, she wore formal black tights, the kind aristocrats wore at home.

'I know what you saw last night,' he started, and stepped towards her. She stepped back immediately, without looking up at him. He stopped, and took a deep breath. He could sense her fear, could see her fingers trembling.

She noticed, and held her hands behind her, tightly.

For a few seconds, he felt sorry for her, and wanted to tell her that she misunderstood him, and that he wouldn't harm her. But he would be lying. He had seen and met harmless people many times, and they seemed harmless and nice, until they had power in their hands. He had witnessed it personally, the way power moulded man, changed his attitude towards his allies, twisted his morals.

And currently, Willow Ride had power, even if she didn't see it that way. She could use him, threaten him or have him hanged, and all she needed to do was tell them what she had seen.

For a few seconds, he said nothing, and simply observed her. She seemed too scared to do anything, to even run. In the faint golden border that the light cast on her body, he could see the nape of her neck, the sleek line of her collarbone, which moved constantly. The few buttons of her shirt at the top were undone, and he could see her golden skin, and the border of a black undergarment.

He cursed himself silently for getting distracted, and looked at her face.

'Does Sokolov know yet?' He asked, walking towards her.

She shook her head. She looked up at him and said, in a small voice, 'I didn't tell anyone.'

'Tell me something, anything,' He said, in a deep voice, trying to be as intimidating as possible. She was already broken down, defenceless, but he didn't want to take a risk. 'That will convince me to trust you, and stop me from slicing your throat.'

She brought her hands to the front, stepping back cautiously. He could see an idea building up in her head, by the way her expression changed, and the way her eyes glanced at the door for a second.

He drew his sword and pointed it at her throat. She froze, looking at him, her hands on her sides. Corvo moved forward slowly, turning the sword to a side and drawing it closer to her neck. Her breathing increased, and she stepped back, but hit the wall.

'Do not try to run,' he said, feeling a sudden rise in him, a new colour. 'I'm warning you.'

He felt guilty, but deep inside, strangely, he was pleased. Somehow he liked watching her terrified, trembling at his sight, like she was at his mercy. He liked the way her brown eyes looked at him, flickered in confusion, and the feel of her hot breath on his neck gave him a twisted pleasure. Before he realised, his lips curled into a smile. His eyes glowed as he looked at her face - he liked being feared by her.

'I swear, I - I promise, I won't tell -'

'Shh,' he hissed, and lifted his other hand. He ran his finger on her cheek, softly at first, and then his fingers dug into her black hair, pulled her head back to press it against the wall. His face was close to hers, there were very few inches separating his lips from hers. He drew his sword, gently, towards the other side of her face, slowly running the tip from her cheek bones to the corner of her lips.

She looked like she had forgotten how to breathe, her hands were at her sides, stuck to the wall behind her. Her legs wobbled, but she didn't move.

He ran the tip of his sword along the border of her lower lip, as she struggled to draw in air through her mouth.

'Convince me,' he spoke, and his voice was low, husky. He had an urge to touch her more, to feel her warmth, a boiling lust he had not felt in a long time.

'I . . . Uhh . .' She stammered, tears filling up her eyes. She gulped, and he watched the bump in her neck , and the small depression at the base of her neck, between her collar bones. It was deeper, hinting that she was breathing harder.

She closed her eyes, and he looked back at her face. He cleared his throat and pressed the sword against her neck again, and she let out a low squeal.

'I will n - not tell anybody, Corvo, I - I promise,' she uttered blindly, her eyes still closed. 'Please, Whatever I want, only Sokolov can give me, and I want nothing else, I swear,' her voice was pleading. 'My thesis, about minds, thats all I want!' She took a deep shaky breath. 'I don't want money or anything else, so your secret is of no use to me, please . . '

'More,' he ordered.

'Umm . . M-my word isn't believed by a lot of . .uhh . .people, so nobody will believe me, and I will have no use of it, and - ' she blabbered mindlessly, and opened her eyes. His face was closer, but so was the sword. She could feel the sharp edge pressing against her skin. He held her hair tighter, watching her eyes as she spoke. The twisted smile still lingered on his face.

'Please don't kill me, please, don't kill me!' She pleaded as her fingers clawed the wooden wall behind her, feeling all of her heart beat concentrated in her neck, at the part where the knife pressed against her skin.

'This is my second time trying to kill you,' he said to her. He tried to make himself sound more serious, more deadly, but his mind was clouded, fogged with an intense wanting. ' the third time, I won't miss.'

His face lingered there, inches away from hers, and it took him a few seconds to fight the urge. He let his fingers slide down her hair, down the nape of her neck, and pulled back the sword.

'Oh God!' Willow gasped absentmindedly as she slid to to floor, her fingers on her neck.

'Remember well, Miss Ride,' Corvo said as he stepped back, and turned around to walk to the door. He sheathed his sword, opened the door and closed it behind him. The cold air of the night suddenly made him sane, brought down the warm sensation in him, and he stood at the door, soaking it in. He took a deep breath, the twisted smile still lingering on his face as he walked across the roof.

'What d'you think happened in there?' The lower watch guard asked the other. The second guard looked at Corvo, who was now going down the stairs, and saw his smile.

'Doesn't take a genius,' he said to the first. 'Now get back to your watch, idiot.'

Willow Ride couldn't sleep that night. She couldn't even get up from the place she had been lying, at the foot of the stairs. She stretched herself on the wooden flooring, lying flat on her stomach, two fingers touching the nape of her neck. Her eyes were open, staring at the darkness.

She was terrified, shaken. She wouldn't tell anyone about the mark, and she had expected Corvo to think the same.

A fear still lingered in her, and with it, so did the warmth of his touch. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his fingers in her hair, their soft touch as they slid down the nape of her neck. She could feel the proximity of his face again, the closeness of his lips to hers.

He's a killer_, _she thought. A cold, merciless killer_. _

She lay on the floor for a while, and when she noticed that the light from the window was getting a little brighter, she stood up weakly and walked to the bathroom.

She showered, dressed into her suit and braided her hair tight, and then folded it up into a bun,the way she had for the past two years. She closed her books and put them back in the shelves, put on her shoes and walked down to the store room below the Planning room. A warm feeling still lingered in her, but she restrained herself from getting distracted by the previous night's events.

She opened the door to the storage room, and pulled out the drawer of the table.

She moved the contents around in a state of panic, and then searched the other shelves in the room, and failed. She looked under the tables, on the walls, in every nook and corner of the room, but the keys to the lab were missing.

So was the weeper cells key.

Willow rushed out of the safe room and looked down at the two guards.

'Good morning, Miss Ride,' One of them wished her as she walked across the roof.

'Did you see anybody sneaking around last night?'She asked them, looking at their faces.

'Nobody,' The second one answered.

'Well, actually, The Lord Protector -' the first one uttered, but the other guard nudged him hard.

'Are you sure there was nobody else?' She asked, her mind tangling up in confusion.

'Yes Ma'am,' the guard answered.

Suddenly, an alarm blared throughout the tower, and then a second one.

The guards looked at her doubtfully.

'Go now!' She ordered them, and they rushed down the stairs. Willow took a few seconds to absorb the facts, and then followed the guards, the loud noise of the alarms ringing in her ears.

Corvo was already on his feet, running to Emily's chamber with a sword in his hand. Maids and servants were running towards the stairs, mumbling and shouting at each other in confusion,

Corvo barged into Emily's room - and found her on the bed.

He let out a sigh of relief, watching her sitting upright on her bed, hugging the covers.

'Whats going on, Corvo?' She asked, her voice faultering.

'I do not know either,' he said, as he walked towards her. He stroked her hair once, and walked to the window. It was wide open, and down in the courtyard, he could see a few guards rushing into the tower door. He moved back and closed the window. He gripped his sword tightly as he walked back to the door and looked outside. The corridor was almost empty, and he could see the guards rushing up the staircase at the end.

'Guard!' He called aloud, and a watch officer looked at him. He rushed into the corridor, and sheathed his sword.

'The laboratory, sir,' he started as he bowed in front of him. ' Someone let all the weepers out. They're roaming around in the tower right now.'

'How many?' Corvo asked, looking back at the stairs.

'Twenty five, sir,' The watch officer answered.

'You stay in this corridor,' Corvo ordered him. 'Call two more officers onto this floor. I will be here too.'

'Absolutely, sir,' he bowed again and went back to the the staircase, shouting at two more officers to stay back on the floor.

'No, stop!' A familiar voice rang through the corridor, followed by a blood chilling scream.

'That's Anna Maria!' Emily cried in panic and rushed out of her bed. She ran into the corridor.

'Emily, don't! ' Corvo exclaimed, because he had seen what had happened inside through The Dark vision. He rushed forward to stop her, but it was too late.

Emily had opened the door, and stood at the entrance, her eyes wide. For a few seconds, her face showed no expression, and her eyes remained shapeless in shock.

Her legs wobbled, and Corvo turned her around and embraced her, forcing her away from the direction of the entrance.

She held the same shock for a few minutes, her cheek pressed against his robe, her fingers gripping onto his black garment.

Corvo held the back of her head protectively, preventing her from looking back at the horrible sight.

He pursed his lips tight. He felt like a deadly poison was rising up his throat, and he looked down at Anna Maria's mutilated body.

Nobody could even tell if it was a woman or a man on the floor. The skin was fried to a deep black. Her limbs twisted at an odd angle on the floor. A terrible stench filled the air.

The watch officers looked at the body, at the black soot that tainted the marble floor around the burnt form.

'Dear God,' One of them gasped.

Corvo carried Emily back to her room, and gently lay her down on the bed. He was about to pull away, but she grabbed his robe again.

'Please stay, Corvo,' she pleaded, without looking at him. He sat down at the edge of her bed solemnly, and she wrapped her arms around him again, burying her face in his chest.

'There's one!' He could hear The Watch Officer shouting, and the faint groaning of a weeper. A gunshot echoed in the corridor.

Corvo held Emily tighter, and he could feel her shaking.

His mind rammed forward accounting all the possibilities. He knew that the keys to the lab were always with Willow, and he had been with her the previous night. He had not sensed anybody else in the safe house, and he was sure that she had not stepped out either.

And Anna Maria - who could have killed her?

His mind saw one possibility.

Letting the weepers out was a deliberate action, and there was no other reason for someone to do that except to cause a distraction, to let the defence concentrate on something else.

But the next part made no sense. Why would they - whoever they were - take such a risk for a target like Anna Maria?

He looked back at the window again, and used his Dark vision. His eyes turned into two dark orbs, like that of The Outsider's. He could see a figure, stationed beside the window on the wall.

A Whaler.

He pulled back from Emily immediately and stood up. He walked to the window silently, gripping the hilt of his sword tighter, and just as he was about to strike, The Whaler disappeared.

Corvo looked back at Emily, and scanned the room.

He had gone.

Willow Ride ran down the stairs, her heart banging against her chest. The Guards were looking around everywhere, and a Higher Watch Officer looked at her.

'Its not advisable to stay in the corridors, Ma'am,' he said to her as she reached the foot of the stairs. 'Please stay back in a room.'

'Have Piero and Sokolov been informed of this?' She asked him as she walked forward.

'Yes Ma'am. They have been asked to stay back on The Empress' floor for now. Anton Sokolov would want to speak with you.'

'Thank you,' she mumbled to him and went down the stairs again, from the Lab floor to the Empress' floor. She found more number of guards, and one of them told her that Sokolov and Piero were waiting in the corridor beside the Lord Protector's chambers.

She stepped into the corridor, and found them both at the end. Sokolov looked at her and walked forward, his gait showing the full extent of his anger. Willow lowered her head and walked forward.

'Will you please explain to me how the keys simply vanished?!' He yelled at her. Piero followed him, and he didn't look as bothered as Sokolov.

'I had them with me in the store room, sir,' she explained, looking up at him. 'I don't know when and how but someone took them.'

'Oh did they?!' He shouted, raising his eyebrows. 'I asked you to be extra careful, Ride!' He yelled.

'I'm sorry,' she mumbled. 'Forgive me, I should have been more careful.'

'Damn right you should have!' He screamed at her, his eyes wide with fury. He looked at her for a few seconds, and then closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and stroked his beard, the end of his mouth twitching.

'This is not like you, Ride.' He said, in a calmer tone. 'You were always so careful with everything. I am utterly disappointed.'

Willow felt a sudden pang in her chest. As much as she hated Sokolov, she also admired his intellect. She had never let him down for three years, and now she felt useless.

'I think a lot of people will agree that this simply was not Willow's fault,' Piero said, looking at Sokolov. 'Corvo thinks there's a powerful people responsible for this chaos. In such situations even you and I could have done nothing.'

'Well . .' Sokolov mumbled. 'We will have to get more weepers now. Start the testing all over again.'

'That will take approximately a week and a half,' Piero said. 'There really was no need for you to get so vexed up, Anton.'

'I suppose you're right,' Sokolov said, and looked at Willow. 'No mistakes this time,' he said firmly.

'Yes sir,' Willow nodded. 'This will not be repeated.'

'Better not,' Sokolov grumbled. 'Now we'll just have to wait here until they get all the weepers.'

'From what I hear they have already shot down seven of them,' Piero said.

'Hm. Of course they would,' Sokolov mumbled. 'I have told the guards to capture as many as possible, especially the ones that have improved.'

Willow could smell something burning, and she looked around to see what it was.

'Thats not a burnt dish you're smelling, Ride,' Sokolov said, observing her expression. 'Someone shot The Empress' servant with an incendiary arrow. Unfortunate woman.'

Willow's heart sank as she remembered Anna Maria. She looked at the open door of her room, and found a faint blackish hue on the marble floor.

'Although, I have to say,' Sokolov mumbled, almost to himself. 'That was a remarkable arrow. Only someone very experienced in weaponry could have made one like that.'

**So I know I said in the previous chapter that there would be no Corvo x Willow, but lol. I hope you guys liked it. For a person like me, it takes courage to publish lime stuff on the internet. So now you know why its M rated.**

**please give me reviews, even a word is fine.**

**Thank you for reading!**

**xoxoxoxo**


	5. The Hole In The World

**Five** - The Hole In The World

**Before I continue I want to thank ****MDGeistMD02**** for the wonderful reviews and support. I tried to make as many corrections as possible, please ignore anything that may have skipped my notice.**

**I'm totally new to this site, so such reviews make me feel a whole lot better. So thanks for the encouragement!**

**Enjoy :)**

The weepers had been taken care of by early noon, and soon the overseers, watch officers and guards had hoarded up around the tower, chattering and trying to take the situation under control. The court was held after lunch, where the matter of the seven dead aristocrats was brought up, and the matter was thoroughly discussed. Corvo stood beside Emily, watching her intently. She had not yet reacted to Anna Maria's death.

After the court meeting was done, at dinner, Emily barely finished her food. She walked back to her chamber, where her clothes had been ironed and arranged by another maid.

Corvo stood at the door, watching her as she stared at the neatly spread out night gown on her bed.

'Emily . .' Corvo started, and his voice drifted away. He didn't know what to say. She had seen it with her own eyes, the burnt body of her servant.

'There's no Orchid,' Emily mumbled, loud enough for him to hear. She bent down and ran her fingers on the gown. 'Anna Maria always left me an Orchid with the clothes. She said that smelling something pleasant would give me good dreams.'

Corvo simply looked at her, his lips bending in a frown.

'I'll tell the maids tomorrow,'He said, looking at the floor.

'Yes please,' Emily nodded, looking at the clothes. 'Good night, Corvo.'

'Emily, do you want me to stay back?' He asked, stepping in.

'No thank you,' Emily mumbled. 'I need to stay alone for a while. I'll be okay.'

Corvo lingered for a few seconds, and finally closed the door behind him. He glanced at Anna Maria's room, which was off limits. A yellow band had been strapped on her door. Her body was carried away by the guards.

He walked around the corridor, remembering the Whaler he had seen outside Emily's window. He made a mental note to double the guards from tomorrow, because he had a feeling that the incident was just the beginning.

His mind kept thinking about the same matter as he went to his chamber. He placed his scabbard on the table and sat down at the edge of his bed.

He pulled off his gloves and looked at the mark on his hand, flexing his fingers slowly.

He tried to remember the previous night's events clearly, and he realised that he had been slightly drunk. The wine at The Hound Pits had got to him.

He could still recall the warmth of Willow's skin on his fingers, like a fragrance that lingered around the vase even after the flowers had been removed. He could still feel the warmth of her breath brushing against his neck. He could remember the feel of her soft hair in his fingers.

His desire built up again, and he suddenly wanted to feel her, to touch her, to hear her soft breaths against his ear.

He got up and walked to the mirror. He looked at himself, and thought : That is the face of a killer. A brute that chases blood and strikes innocent men in the name of revenge.

Someone like him didn't deserve that warmth. Especially if the object of his desire was someone like Willow Ride. He had threatened her and crossed his limits, but at least he was assured that she wouldn't tell anybody about his mark.

Another thing that bothered him were the two guards on the roof. Guards, especially lower watch guards, were stupid. They assumed and talked and gossiped like noble housewives. He wouldn't be surprised if there was already a rumour going around in the tower.

That was exactly how the rumours of his scandalous affair with the Empress had sparked off, and now the entire kingdom was convinced that Emily was his own blood.

Empress Jessamine and him were close, very close, because he was at the top of the very short list of people that she trusted. They often spoke casually to each other, stayed alone in rooms and shared whiskey. When they were alone, they didn't address each other formally. He couldn't deny the fact that he had definitely sprouted feelings for her, and on a few occasions, she had reciprocated his feelings. But he had restrained himself.

Not like this, he had told himself. Not now. Maybe after we're both old and worn, and when nobody will bother us again, maybe then I can tell her what I truly felt. But not now.

But he never got the chance. It was snatched away from his hands.

Suddenly, a humble knock sounded on his door. Corvo stood up and walked to the door.

'Milord?' He heard the voice of a guard. Corvo opened the door, and the guard bowed.

'A letter for you, milord,' he said, handing out a square shaped envelope, sealed with red wax.

'From?' Corvo asked, turning it over in his hands. It had nothing written on it.

'I have been ordered not to mention, milord,' The guard said, without meeting his eyes.

Corvo looked at the envelope for a few seconds, and dismissed the guard. He walked back inside and closed the door. He sat down at his study and switched on the golden lamp, looking at the small square envelope. He used a pocket knife to pull away the wax and opened it.

There was a folded piece of parchment, and on that was a note scribbled roughly, as if who ever had been writing it were in great haste and were afraid of getting caught.

' When I went in to check the weeper cells in the evening, I found this note stuck to

the wall. It had no name of the sender or any address, but the message that I saw

seemed relevant only if it were meant for you. If its not, still keep it.

I don't like the way it was written.'

Corvo knew at once that it was Willow. He unfolded the hand written letter and found another folded paper within it. He put Willow's note aside and unfolded the second one, and was appalled.

It wasn't really a letter, but simple four words scribbled across the page, but it didn't give the impression that the writer was in haste. It looked like it had been written down using red paint, applying a lot of pressure on the paper, moving the pen slow and steady.

'Now it's my turn.'

Corvo folded it up and placed it aside. He closed his eyes, and the vision from his dream appeared, he could see Daud, at the edge of the roof, his sharp grey eyes piercing his as he spoke, 'Now its my turn.'

Corvo opened his eyes and looked at the note again, and remembered the Whaler by Emily's window. He let out a heavy sigh.

Fate had chased him down again, and he knew these times required him to be ruthless.

His mark burned.

That night, he found himself in The Void. Floating stones assembled in front of him, forming a staircase straight upwards. He climbed the stairs silently, hoping to find the black eyed God at the end. Only he could answer his questions.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he found Anna Maria, her frozen form, falling back onto the floor in panic with the incendiary arrow rushing towards her shoulder.

As he walked further, he found Emily, wide awake in her bed, sitting up, weeping. He felt a pang in his heart as he saw the tears streaming down her face. Behind Emily, seated in a chair and scribbling a note was Willow, on Sokolov's desk. He saw that the bottom desk was open, and found ancient papers and books.

'Its been a long time, Corvo,' The Outsiders voice echoed. Corvo turned around and found him floating in the air, between Emily and Willow.

'After all you've done for the Empire, the Empress,' he spoke, his black eyes looking straight at him,'One would expect you to have, what they call "A Happy Ending", wouldn't they? So where is it, Corvo?' He asked, extending his hand to show Anna Maria and Emily. 'The lonely child weeps in the night, and innocent people lose their lives for unexplained reasons. Turns out, Happy Endings are just myths, and they last for no more than a moment.' He floated towards him, slowly. 'It bothers you, doesn't it? Having innocent blood on your fingers. You keep thinking, if only I could forget. Forget what I've done, then I could protect dear Emily with all my heart.' He gently floated towards Willow, and stopped at the edge of the desk.

'They say there are seven deadly sins that a man should stay away from. Pride, Wrath, Envy, Gluttony, Sloth, Lust and Greed.' He looked back at Corvo. 'But a man who stays away from all the seven sins cannot really be human now, can he? For all of them are the basic instincts of humans. They want what they cannot have. They want greatness, money, fame and women. Then how could these be considered sins, I wonder?' He raised his hand towards Willow. 'This lost Philosopher, a sad little creature. Nobody knows it yet, but she holds the secret to a technique that can wipe out fear, pain and agony from One's mind. And what is a man without fear?' He leaned forward, and said, ' Invincible.'

'And Daud,' he said, floating back towards Corvo. 'You keep carrying him on your conscience, Corvo. All the things he has done, I have witnessed and watched with great interest. A few things that he has done, you would be shocked if you knew. But now I see him again, Corvo. I see him standing before me, right now, questioning his own judgement and actions. What will you do now, I wonder?' He floated back gently, keeping his black eyes locked on Corvo's. ' Will you confront this lost apprentice, A master of The mind, The Object of your Desire, and wipe out your pain and fear? Or will you carry this burden to your grave?' He lifted his hands in mid air, and with a smile, said, 'Choose wisely.'

Corvo opened his eyes, and sat up slowly. He looked at the watch.

5:00.

He got out of bed and went into the bathroom, The Outsider's voice still ringing in his ears.

'Not everybody likes what I do, Willow.'

The words echoed in Willow's mind as she sat at the desk, looking at the patterns of the table cloth on Sokolovs desk. She had just finished her lunch, and still had ten minutes to get back to work. Piero was in his room, and Sokolov had gone to the Dining room for lunch.

Willow lay her head down on the desk, and closed her eyes, remembering more of her memories, more of her mother's words.

'But you want to help them, don't you?' Willow asked her mother.

'I do,' her mother nodded, looking down at Willow. 'But not everybody sees it that way.'

'You should tell them you want to help,' Willow said, standing by her desk, looking into her green eyes through her mother's spectacles.

'Oh honey,' she stroked Willow's hair gently. 'We live in a man's world, darling. Nobody pays much attention to us women.'

'But the Empress is a lady!' Willow exclaimed, confused.

'Well,' her mother blinked. 'Except her.'

'Isn't that unfair, mother?'

She looked back at her desk, at the papers in front of her. Her eyes seemed lost, and her short black hair gently fell on her dark cheeks from the side. 'Very unfair, Willow,' she mumbled. 'Very unfair.'

'Ride!' Sokolov's voice sounded in the room. Willow got up and hurried into the main room. 'Back to work! They're getting us twelve more weepers, so you'll have extra work today!'

'Yes sir!' She exclaimed and took her notes in her hand.

During her work, she kept getting distracted in the middle, sometimes by remembering the disturbing note she had found and sent to Corvo, and sometimes by Corvo himself. Fragments of her most recent memories flashed in her mind - how cold his fingers had been when he pressed them against her neck for the first time, and how hostile his touch was. Then she recalled the second time he had touched her, and strangely, his fingers had been soft, warm.

Sometimes she got distracted while thinking about Anna Maria's death, and at other times by thinking about her mother.

She even stopped once and hit slapped herself hard, and forced herself to concentrate on her work. She never got distracted, and she felt like there was something wrong with her.

After the day's work was done, she went straight upstairs to her room, and kept the lights off. She liked the darkness. She went up to the planning room, and in there was the door to the bedroom. She opened it and slowly walked to her bed. It was a small room, with a narrow bed and a bedside table. An ornate mirror hung on the wooden wall in front of her, and the only source of light were two golden lamps on the wall behind the bed. The Eastern wall had a window which showed the river. Two red curtains hung on either side of it.

There was also a wardrobe, in which were seven pairs of her suits and three pairs of her night clothes.

She had deliberately bought the men's night clothing, because the women's type was a full length or a knee length gown, rich with satin or silk, clinging uncomfortably to the chest. She hated it, because at night it kept slipping between her thighs, and made her feel exposed. She preferred the mens range much more.

She had a warm shower and changed into her night clothes, a similar white coloured shirt and black tights. She went to the chest in the corner of the room and unlocked it.

In it was her most priced possession, her mother's diary. Originally, there were seven diaries corresponding to seven years of her life before pregnancy, and Willow had undone the books and Stitched them all together to make an incredibly fat book that was half her weight. She carried it to the bed, grabbed a piece of parchment and sat down at the edge with a pen in her hand.

She heard a loud knock on the door.

Her blood went cold, because she had a feeling that she knew who it was.

She gulped as she heard the knocking again. She walked to her wardrobe and slipped on a thin navy blue robe that she had reserved for such occasions. She tied back her hair in a rough bun and walked down the stairs, switching on the light.

She opened the door slowly by a few inches.

'I need your help,' Corvo said, peeking in through the narrow space.

Willow looked him over thoroughly, a tension building up in her.

'I don't have any weapons,' Corvo said, after he understood what she was looking for.

'Do you mind me asking how long you're going to be here, sir?' She asked, opening the door by a few more inches. Her voice was small, hesitant.

'Well, maybe a thirty minutes?' Corvo mumbled impatiently.

Willow hesitated for a few seconds, and finally opened the door enough to let him in.

Corvo walked in and she closed the door behind her, feeling her heart beat rising. She walked upstairs to the planning room, and he followed her. There was a wide table in the centre of the room, and it was a dark brown. Three chairs were placed around it, and the floor was covered by a maroon carpet. Willow pushed back a chair for him, and he sat down, resting his elbows on the table. She sat on the opposite side of the table, and waited.

'You study about The mind, don't you?' He asked, looking at her. She nodded.

Corvo remembered The Outsider's words, and looked at the wooden table. He looked at her, and it seemed very unlikely that this woman, the timid, professional woman that sat in front of him could hold such a power.

'Would you like something, sir?' She asked. 'Tea?'

'Isn't it a little too late for tea?' It slipped his tongue before he could stop himself. He remembered that night, the way he had acted.

'I think there's some wine downstairs, or maybe Whiskey.' She mumbled and was about to get up, but saw his doubtful expression and stopped.

Corvo looked at her, at her black hair which was falling out from her bun onto a side of her cheek.

'May I?' She asked, looking at him.

'Sure,' he nodded. 'Thank you.'

Willow nodded hastily and went down to the storeroom, and found a bottle of wine, although there was not much in it. She took a glass and went back upstairs, and placed the glass in front of him.

She uncapped the bottle and poured the pale liquid slowly.

'This is all I had,' She explained with a flash of a tense smile. 'Sorry.'

Corvo took the glass in his hand. 'Thank you,' he mumbled, and saw that she sat idly, and asked, 'You don't drink?'

'I can't, especially after what happened,' she cleared her throat. 'It would distract me.'

'Of course,' he agreed, and took a swig. 'About the note,' he started and looked at her. She sat down on her chair nervously.

'Was there nothing else with it? No clue? Did you check around?' He questioned.

'Nothing,' she answered. 'I checked around twice, and found nothing else.'

'Do you know about The Whalers?' He asked her, and she looked at him, slightly shocked.

'Of course,' she said. 'There isn't a person thats not heard of them,' she saw that he had finished his drink, and extended her hands to pour more into the glass, but he shook his head. 'I'm fine,' he mumbled, and pushed the glass aside.

'There was a Whaler outside Lady Emily's window, right after Anna Maria had died,' Corvo said.

'So the note was left by them?' She asked, drawing her hands onto her lap below the table.

'Most probably,' he said. 'But thats not why I'm here, Miss Ride,' he explained. 'As I mentioned before, I need your help.'

Willow looked nervous, and she squared her shoulders for a few seconds as she said, 'with what?'

'It's an important thing, but I'm not sure yet,' he blabbered. 'First I just want to know.'

'About . . .?'

'Do you know a technique that can . . Well . .'

Willow stood up, her hands trembling. She put her palms on the table, feeling a sudden anger and fear. She could remember the past, and it was vivid, disturbing.

'I think you should leave now, sir,' she said in a firm tone.

'Not so fast, no,' Corvo said, standing up, bending forward. 'I need to know. Can you really remove fear and pain from people's minds?'

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Don't lie to me, Ride,' he said, in a demanding tone.

Willow looked at his face, appalled.

'What is it - some kind of Black Magic? The Outsider's gift?' He demanded, walking towards her, stepping around the table.

'No.'

'So you do know it,' he said, stopping at a foots distance from her.

'I cannot tell you anything much, I'm sorry.'

'You're lying.'

'Its personal.'

'About your Mother?' It slipped from his tongue. She looked up at him, her mouth agape, her eyes glassy and wet.

He sighed heavily and calmed himself down. When he spoke again, his voice was low, and polite to an extent. 'I know she was killed. I do not know how and when and why, but I do know she was killed.' He remembered the secrets The Heart had whispered to him.

'How do you . . .' Her voice trailed away.

'Miss Ride,' he spoke, looking into her eyes. 'You are ambitious. Maybe too ambitious. And if you really hold a secret that could do things like that, then you better give it up to a man.'

She gulped, and a drop of tear rolled down her left cheek, but the rest of her face was gaunt. The tip of her sharp nose turned a faint pink, and the same colour suffused in her cheeks.

'If anybody - even Sokolov - found out that you hold such power, they will hang you. They will accuse you of Witch craft.'

'Why?' She asked, and surprisingly, her tone was firm.

'Well . .' Corvo looked at the table, and sighed. 'I have witnessed it personally, how threatened a man becomes when he finds out that a woman has higher power. I've seen it a hundred times in Jessamine's court,' he had deliberately addressed her informally. 'Besides the Empress, the bastards in court cannot tolerate that thought.'

Willow gazed at him emptily, like she was trying to process everything he was saying.

'Its a mans world,' they spoke simultaneously. He looked at her again, and nodded grimly.

'My mother . .' She sniffed, and looked at the floor. 'She said the same.'

He nodded again, and looked at her for a few seconds. She turned around and sat on the table, still looking at the floor, lost in thought.

A memory flashed in Corvo's mind, only for a second, but it made his heart beat louder, faster. He could see her lips, and remembered the tip of his sword tracing the border of her lower lip, and her gasp, her fear.

'You are right, sir,' she spoke finally, looking back at him. He felt slightly odd that she still addressed him formally, especially after what had just happened.

'Thats how my mother died,' she mumbled, and wiped her cheeks. 'She had the gift . . . Or she developed it. Thats what she told me, that she developed it. And she could make people forget, and she tried to use it to help people, to help children forget about the murders of their parents, to help young victims of rape forget all that pain,' she took the empty glass in her hand, and poured in some wine. She drank the whole of it at once, and gulped it with difficulty. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. 'And they called her a witch. They could have complained to the overseers, but they didn't. They wanted to punish her all by their own.' She put the glass aside and got down. She looked up at him, and moved closer, looking at his hair, his eyes. 'They tied her up to a pole on the street and - ' she took a deep shaky breath, looking down at her hands. 'And they threw stones at her until she died. Then they dragged her body through the street, and burned her at the stake.'

Corvo said nothing, and simply looked at her. He didn't know what to say, even though her story stung his heart.

'My poor mother . . .' She wailed silently and sank back into a chair, burying her face in her hands.

'She suffered . ,'

Corvo stepped back and sat in the chair beside hers, Resting his elbows on his knees, observing her grimly. She cried for a while, her shoulders shaking, tears dripping from the crevices in her fingers.

After a few minutes, she lifted her head and reached out for the bottle of wine, and took a swig directly from the bottle. She finished the little that was left, and placed it back on the table. She let her head rest on her hand on the table, looking at Corvo.

'How did you know?' She asked.

Corvo looked away from her, at the empty bottle on the table. He wished there was more of it, because he felt like he would need it.

'The Outsider told me,' he mumbled, looking at his hands. He pulled out the glove from his left hand, and as he looked at the mark, it started to burn and glow. She didn't look surprised or amused, because she had expected the same.

'When we were kids,' she mumbled, almost to herself, tilting her head to look at her fingers. 'Every adult tried to scare us by telling stories about The Outsider. Some of them were very disturbing.'

Corvo couldn't deny that as a kid, he had been afraid of The Outsider as well, but far south in Serkonos, not many people bothered themselves about those legends.

'There was one story about a boy,' she continued. 'They called him The Unknown Kid. He was an orphan, maybe, I don't remember the details. He was a loner, and all his friends teased him. Then one day, Outsider appeared to him and gave him a power to control plague rats, and he used it to kill all his friends. Then he died of the plague, but his last wish was to thank The Outsider.'

'It's only a story,' Corvo said, taking the empty bottle in his hands, reading the labels.

'If The Outsider is really so evil, how can I even be motivated to help his disciples?' She questioned, lifting her head to look directly into his eyes.

Corvo simply looked at her, his mark still glowing. 'Because I didn't choose to be . . . His "disciple",' he said, in a low voice. 'And the way he speaks to me, he doesn't seem to be evil. He's like an audience. He accepts whatever happens, and simply witnesses it.'

'He still told you about the technique I know,' she pointed out. 'Doesn't that mean he's trying to lead you in some way? To interfere in these events?'

'I wouldn't say that.'

'How do I know you're not working for some twisted purpose of his?' She asked, her face gaunt, her eyebrows low. Her dark hair fell on her face from both the sides, and her eyes looked puffy and red.

'Because he doesn't have a purpose. He only speaks to people who have one,' he answered patiently.

She looked him over once, suspiciously. 'What's your purpose?' She asked him.

'To protect Emily,' he spoke. 'To stay by her side and keep her safe while she runs a kingdom.' His eyes were true, unhesitant as he spoke those words. His voice was strong, but soft.

Willow looked at him for a while, and stood up slowly, balancing herself by placing her hands on the table.

'You're a good man, Corvo,' she spoke, her eyes on the table. Her dark hair fell on her sides, so he couldn't see her face. 'But its these "good men" that I see doing some of the worst things in the city.'

'I think I've already done enough bad in my life,' he mumbled, looking at her hair.

She took a deep breath, and pushed her hair back slowly.

'The technique that Outsider told you about,' She spoke, 'It's got nothing to do with magic or anything like that. It's a form of Hypnotism.'

'Whats that?' Corvo asked incredulously. 'I've never heard of it.'

'No wonder,' she said. 'It was discovered only recently, maybe thirty years ago. But The Overseers didn't like it. So it's forbidden, and considered a form of heresy. Nobody, at least not many people have even heard of it.'

'And your mother practiced it?' He asked.

'Well . . .' Willow closed her eyes for a moment, and shook her head slowly. 'Don't say it like that,' she murmured. 'You make it sound like witch craft.' She looked back at the door to her bedroom, and went in. She returned holding her mother's diary, a fat book with pages poking out from the middle.

'This is my mother's work,' she said, showing the book. She opened it to reveal old coffee coloured pages, most of them torn at the corners. The pages held mad scribblings, drawings and a few stuck in notes and pictures.

'The technique was originally discovered by my great grandfather. He passed it on to my mother, and he didn't even have notes or such. He simply told her the basics, and she worked for seven years to master it.'

Corvo leaned in and looked at the pages, the notes and drawings.

'As a child, my mother taught me small ways of hypnotism, like making a person sleep, or making him drink something,' she explained. 'But she practised bigger forms of it.'

'Like?'

'Getting them to reveal their secrets,'She said. 'And also to get rid of their fears and anxiety.'

'Can you do it?' He asked her. He turned a few pages in the book, and said, 'It looks promising.'

'I don't know,' Willow mumbled. 'Its not easy, and not really safe either.'

'Why?' He asked, observing the hesitation in her face. She ran her fingers along her forehead, taking a deep breath.

'It's just not safe,' She said. 'Especially for a person like you.'

'What can happen?' He asked. Willow slowly closed the book, and stroked the hard bound cover. It was an old, brown leather, with irregular stitching along the borders.

'I should sleep now,' She mumbled. 'I have a lot of work to do tomorrow. And I'm also drunk.'

Corvo watched her as she stood up with the book in her hand and went into her bedroom.

'Maybe we can continue this conversation some other day,' She said, closing the door up to a few inches. 'But not now. The elixir is almost done. The city wide Plague reformations will soon commence. And The Whalers are suddenly very active. But if you ask me,' she said, looking at him as he stood up. 'It's best for you if we end this conversation right now, and never speak of it again. After all, I know your secret, you know mine. We're even.' She gently closed the door, saying, 'Good night, Corvo.'

Corvo stayed in the planning room for a while, The Outsider's words still ringing in his ears. As soon as he told Corvo about the way to get rid of the fear and pain, he didn't even bother thinking about the matter. He wanted to get rid of them, and it was least of his concerns how it could be done. He wanted to forget, because he was convinced that they were getting in the way of his duties.

He hated himself more and more when he found his mind drifting away on duty, when the memory of taking a life away made its way into his thoughts. He couldn't afford to get distracted, especially after what had happened recently.

He didn't care if it made him a coward, just because he chose to forget instead of facing it openly. He wasn't really in a state to credit himself about anything.

When he was ready, he walked out of the safe room, and saw the two guards. They sprang up on their feet from the floor and bowed low.

'I don't care what you think about my visit,' He told them, while their heads were lowered. 'But in there is a respectable woman going through a hard time. It'd be best for the both of you if you kept your mouths shut,' he said.

'Y-yes sir. Sorry sir,' the first one blabbered, and nudged the second one in the chest.

'Um, yeah, we promise,' the second one nodded.

Corvo walked across the roof and went back to his chamber.

**I hope that kept you entertained. Please leave a review!**

**Thank you for reading**!


	6. Destroying The Cancer

**Six** - Destroying The Cancer

**Hello again. Hope you guys are enjoying the story. Seriously guys, I could use reviews, even if they're bad.**

**So here's the new chapter, and this one mainly has Emily in it.**

**Have fun!**

Four days passed since The Whaler attack, and Anna Maria's unfortunate death. A funeral was held in the courtyard, and all the maids and servants, a few guards and court officials attended it along with The Empress and her protector. Piero and Willow were also present.

From what they knew, she was a widow without children, so there was no family from Anna Maria's side.

The court had discussed the matter repeatedly for four days, but in vain. Nobody could pinpoint to anything, because most of the details were vague. Corvo had told them about the whaler, but left out the part about the note. By the end of the meeting on the fourth day, they had all decided to send a unit of guards and a unit of overseers to the assassin headquarters in the flooded district.

They would be sent after two days, when all the necessary equipment and material was prepared.

Corvo was not satisfied with the plan, but there was nothing much they could do to stop their attacks, except increasing the security, which he knew all too well was of no use. He did not really care how many aristocrats died, because they were a hinderance to the society.

By the end of the fourth day, as usual, Willow was tired. She walked up to her room silently, looking at the blood stains on her sleeve that a weeper had left. She went up to her bedroom, keeping the door to the planning room open. She lay down on her bed without changing, and turned to lie flat on her stomach, one hand hanging from the edge, her fingers touching the furry brown carpet on the floor.

Her eyes were open, and were gazing at nothing in particular. She was thinking about her mother, remembering the moments she had spent with her.

Her mother's name was Teigan Ride, and from what Willow could recall, she had always faced the society's distaste because of being a single mother. Willow was nine years old when her mother was killed, and she could still see the scene in her mind, how their house, a small two storied building, had been silent and peaceful, and all of a sudden, how the peace has been shattered forever, like the broken bits of a mirror which could never be put together again.

She could feel the warmth of her mother's body as she lay in the arm chair, legs propped up onto her mother's lap, a little blue flame burning in the fireplace. She could remember slipping into sleep, listening to her mother singing a lonely yet beautiful song, a song that always seemed to echo in the rooms of the house.

And then a bunch of angry men had barged in, and the next moment she had been pulled away from her mother's lap, thrown onto the floor, an angry lady from the mob holding her back as they dragged her mother out. She could almost see her mother looking back at her, trying to get out of their grip to embrace her child, and she could almost feel the pain that had stung her throat when she screamed to her mother.

Willow slowly sat up, and her eyes travelled to the door. It was wide open, and she could see the gloomy planning room, with the golden lamp switched on.

And then she saw it.

A dark shadow, a tall form lingering in the far corner of the planning room, turning to her. It moved, and slowly floated along the wall. Her heart kept banging against her chest, and in a few seconds, it vanished.

She got up and shut the door, because she knew who that was.

She removed her shoes and lay back on the bed again, thinking about the elixir, the plague, the whalers and her mother.

Corvo watched Emily as she walked to the breakfast table. Her behaviour in the past four days greatly troubled him, because she never smiled. When she did, it was empty, meaningless, like she was trying to humour him out of affection.

She took the knife in her hand, and the fork in the other, showing perfect table etiquette, which was rare. A maid bowed her head and settled the napkins on her table. Four maids stood around the long table, and Corvo stood right beside Emily's seat.

"Excuse us, please," Emily spoke, looking at the maids.

One of the maids looked up at her apprehensively, and Emily's face changed. Her eyes looked like they were spewing fire, and her lips pressed into a straight line. Immediately the maids walked out of the room, their heads lowered.

Corvo looked back at Emily.

'I thought you liked their company,' Corvo said.

'Not every second of the day,' Emily muttered, cutting herself a little flat bread and taking in some curry. 'Sometimes they're annoying. Especially when you're not around.'

'I'm sure they mean well.'

'Maybe,' Emily mumbled. 'But Corvo, they don't make me feel like an Empress. They make me feel like a spoilt brat. Like an irresponsible child. Did you see how that maid almost questioned my order now?'

Corvo said nothing, and looked away. 'Emily, I know you're . . Disturbed . .'

'Thats not it, Corvo,' she said, putting down her fork and knife. 'I have been seeing it since they put me on the throne. They don't take me seriously.' She looked up at him. 'And I have tried being soft on them, listening to them, taking their advice, but the problem is, they don't just give advice. They decide it among themselves, and its like I'm just there to announce the decision.'

Corvo pulled out the chair beside Emily, and sat down on it, looking at her.

Her eyes were desperate, begging for help. 'I hate that. And you must know better than everyone else, that they only take decisions that will favour the rich people,' she continued, staring into his eyes. 'Not the poor ones.' She looked ahead slowly, and her eyes suddenly changed to two dark brown slits, like she was determined to do something, determined to bring down a wall.

'And if its that way for long,' she mumbled, 'The Plague will never end.' She looked back at him, her face gaunt. 'Do you know Lord Berthold from the court?' She asked.

Corvo nodded. He had seen him court, always dressed in all his glory, and whenever Corvo had seen him outside of court, when Berthold was leaving the tower, he always had a different woman waiting for him in his metal coach, and some of them were just plague survivors. He was the kind that preyed on poor people and plundered whatever he could find. His contributions to the treasury weren't that great either.

'Day before yesterday,' Emily said, 'I heard him speaking bad things about you. That you deserved to be in Coldridge prison because you . .' Emily looked like she had swallowed poison, and was trying to get it out. 'Because you . . You slept with -'

'Emily-'

'-with mother and-'

'Stop,' Corvo raised his voice, and Emily simply looked at him, her eyes glassy.

Corvo stood up, and wiped his face with his hands. 'You know better than anyone, that I would never -'

'I know!' Emily exclaimed, closing her eyes. ' I'm just hurt and angry because they even dare to speak like that, in our place. And you know what he said before Anna Maria's funeral?'

Corvo looked down at her, suppressing the sudden rage that was forcing him to cut Berthold's throat.

'He said, "Why does that old hag need a funeral? She's already burnt to a crisp!"' Emily gulped. 'And he was laughing.'

She took the glass of juice in her hand and finished it in a few seconds. 'People like him are so many in this city. And they'll plan another epidemic, or a war, something that will get them back into business if The Plague ends.'

Corvo's eyes moved to the wall behind Emily, at the portrait of Jessamine on the wall.

'That's exactly what Empress Jessamine said,' Corvo mumbled loud enough for Emily to hear.

'Mother . . Was worried about the same thing all the time,' Emily said. 'But she was patient. She complied with them, at least until they supported the Treasury, because we needed the money. What do you think, Corvo?' She asked, turning to him.

Corvo looked at her and sighed. 'Emily . .you know I can't speak to you about such things. I can't argue about political things, definitely not with you. That's against my duties.'

'Alright then.' Emily took a deep breath. 'I've made a decision. And I'm determined to keep to it, forever,' she looked at Corvo, her face giving away her tension and anxiety. 'Will you support me?' She asked humbly.

'Emily,' Corvo said, stroking her hair. 'I will always support you, no matter what decisions you take. And I will always be there for you.' He leaned forward and gently kissed her on her forehead, and Emily immediately threw her arms around him. He kept stroking her hair, but his heart was faltering, racing forward through a million questions and fears as to Emily's decision, whatever it was.

'Can you inform the court that I'll be late by a half an hour today?' She asked, her face on his shoulder. 'I need to check on a few things.'

When Emily entered the court, it was nine. A few of the court officials gave her distasteful looks, but she ignored them. She sat down on the throne, and after the formal announcements and reports had been made, she looked around at all their faces.

From a chair in the right corner of the room, a skinny, tall man stood up. His face was thin, with cheekbones so high that they made dark shadows on his face even in the brilliant light of the Court room. His eyes were thin and green, and on the whole, his face looked like that of a fox's, and his dull red hair contributed to that. He looked as cunning as a fox, and he didn't make an effort to hide his confidence.

'If I may, Your Highness,' he bowed a little. 'I have a . . . A proposition for You, and the court.'

'Regarding?' Emily asked, and her voice was loud, bold. It reached the far end of the room flawlessly. A glint of surprise flashed in the standing gentleman's voice.

'The Whaler's attack that took place four days ago, Your Highness,' he said. Emily gave a nod.

Corvo watched him carefully as he walked past the line of chairs, and to the pedestal in the centre of the room, which faced the throne, and was at a lower level than the pedestal that hoisted the throne.

'I, Lord Earnest Lacquert,' he spoke in a louder voice, 'Have thoroughly gone through the reports and events of that day. I have, in my mind, suspicions on several personalities in this Tower, who could be involved in this incident.'

Chatters passed across the room like a wave, but soon faded when the Royal Spokesperson stood up from his seat at the corner of The Empress' pedestal, and yelled, 'Silence, please!'

'You may all be wondering, why I suspect people from within the tower, while there are plenty of sources that could be threatening us from the outside,' Lord Lacquert continued. 'My reason is simple. The fact that there were twenty five weepers locked in the tower was known to no one else outside the tower. And the other reason, is in fact, obvious.' He stopped to study the faces of everyone, even Corvo's. All of them were listening intently to him, and although Corvo did a good job of hiding it, he was paying total attention to Earnest.

'The key to the laboratory, and to the room within it holding the twenty five weepers, was in the possession of a rather unimportant person that has been residing in this tower for five days.'

A new sound echoed in the room, the sound of an elderly gentleman clearing his throat too openly, as if asking for attention. From the centre of the line of chairs on the left, another nobleman stood up, an older man with whitish hair, and a tall, lean stature. Lord Kingsley.

Corvo looked at him, his eyes narrowing.

'You think that fact has not crossed our minds, Earnest?' He asked, looking at Lord Lacquert. 'Surely you do not take us to be worthless idiots, do you?'

Earnest paused for a few seconds, like he was actually thinking about it. Corvo clenched his fists.

'No,' Earnest finally replied. 'I don't. But I do think this is a very serious matter, and every fact or doubt should be discussed and verified well, no matter how unusual the possibility may seem.'

'What is your point, Earnest?' Lord Kingsley asked, impatiently.

'I'm getting to it,' Lord Lacquert said, and looked back at the court. 'The lady in possession of the keys was Miss Willow Ride, The Royal Physician's own apprentice, as you all must be aware. She has been in service for three years, but six days ago, that is, exactly one day before the weepers incident, she was granted permission by His Excellency, Anton Sokolov to stay back in the tower until they finished their experiments. She was given The Safe Room, and lives alone in that four roomed house on the roof.'

Corvo gritted his teeth, trying his best to hide his anger. He knew it all too well that Willow had not been involved at all.

He then relaxed his fists and jaw, and remembered the mysterious note, the hesitation she had shown when he spoke about it. For a few seconds, he considered the possibility.

'I have met and spoken to Miss Willow Ride,' An old noblewoman stood up from the chairs. 'She is a well trained, dedicated woman who does nothing but her duties. The Royal Physician himself has admitted to a few of us on a dinner, that he had never had a student as good as her. He believes that the young lady is only second to The Piero Joplin himself!'

'Now, now,' a third voice rang through the room - a grumpy, rippled voice of a vile man. Lord Berthold stood up from his seat in the front. 'If she is indeed as brilliant as they say, why have we never heard of her inventions? Or any of her written works?' He laughed to himself, adjusting his vest, and then stroking his thin grey hair. 'We all know Anton Sokolov does not judge his female servants based only on their efficiency in their duties.'

Corvo moved. He had stepped forward menacingly, but he held himself back. He took a deep breath and looked at Emily. Her face was gaunt, her back straight as she listened to them.

'She is too young, and still under training,' The noblewoman spoke.

'Young?' Lord Berthold scoffed. 'She is a good thirty, My Lady. How is that young?'

'Well, definitely younger than you!'

'Calm down, ladies and gentlemen,' Lord Lacquert spoke. He cleared his throat and resumed, looking at Emily, 'There is more, Your Highness. When the suspicion first showed up in my mind, I had a look into Willow Ride's history, and found out that she was orphaned at the age of nine. Her mother was, well . . Single, unmarried when she delivered. She was killed, but the details of death I do not know. Willow grew up in an orphanage, and I have noticed that most of her history is blank.'

'Earnest,' The old noblewoman spoke, 'I do not see why you mention personal life. You cannot prove anything based on the fact that she was an illegitimate child!'

'Why not?' Earnest asked. 'Some of the most dangerous and important people were orphaned as a child. According to the science of -'

'Complete your proposition, please,' The Royal Spokesperson demanded impatiently.

Earnest nodded calmly.

'So, My point is that we should put Willow Ride to a light questioning by The Overseers. I only mean to take every possibility seriously. I for one, think that there is no harm in simply questioning and verifying the facts, is there?'

Chatters passed across the room, and Lord Berthold walked to the pedestal, and bowed low to Emily. Emily simply looked at him, and her look was so cold that it wiped away the smirk from his eyes.

'I have some information too,' he began, walking slowly to the pedestal as Lord Lacquert stepped down. He stood on it, and looked around. 'As Earnest has already so clearly stated that it is best for us to consider every possibility, I have one too, and it coincides with Earnest's. May I, Your Highness?'

Emily nodded once.

Berthold cleared his throat and spoke, 'I suspect Willow ride too, but also think that she was not alone. That if it was indeed her, there has to be a few more people involved, that may have definitely helped her. I suggest that we also put these people to questioning along with her.'

He stopped for a few seconds, looking at Emily.

'I suspect Corvo,' he said, looking directly at him. Corvo's expression didn't change, he simply stood as he was, and only his eyes were positioned on Berthold.

'Nonsense!' Someone exclaimed from the chairs. 'On what basis?!'

'Well,' he continued, a small smile twisting the corner of his lips as he looked at Corvo. 'I have heard the sparks of a rather interesting rumour from my servant, that The Lord Protector was seen visiting her twice, on the day before the attack, and on the day after.'

Corvo simply looked at him, hiding his anger. Emily was silent, as silent and cold as a grave.

'Now why would The Lord Protector, whose only duty and goal in his lifetime is to look after the Empress, visit another young lady at midnight, in secret?' He questioned.

The Royal Spokesperson looked at Corvo. 'Is that true?' He questioned.

Corvo scanned the faces of all the people in the court, except Emily's. He stepped forward, and said, in a calm but firm tone, 'It's true.'

Whispers and chatters burst across the room, but Emily still didn't look, or didn't speak.

'Plotting something with your accomplice, were we?' Berthold questioned, flashing a sick grin.

'I assure you, ladies and gentlemen,' Corvo spoke while the room turned silent again. 'My service to Her Highness, Emily Kaldwin is as true and sincere as it was to The Late Empress, Jessamine Kaldwin.'

'From what I hear, Corvo,' Berthold spoke, 'Your service to The Respected Late Empress exceeded its limits, did it not?'

Corvo looked directly at him, clenching his fists. 'I accept to The Overseers' questioning and interrogation. I am not involved in any of these matters.'

'Now that you mention it,' Lord Lacquert stood up again. 'Nobody has seen that Whaler except you, My Lord. I do find that fact disturbing,' he said, looking at Corvo.

'Well, if it wasn't for plotting,' Berthold continued, 'Why did you go to that young lady's chambers, Corvo?'

'It's a personal matter,' Corvo answered firmly.

'Spit it out, Lord Protector. There are too many accusations on you to let you keep anything personal!' Berthold demanded. 'We don't care who you sleep with, but we don't want -'

'Enough!' Emily exclaimed, partly rising up.

'We don't want our Empire to fall lower!' Berthold finished, ignoring Emily. 'And if you -'

'Silence!' The Royal spokesperson rose from his chair, glaring at Berthold. 'Do not speak another word, William,' he warned. 'You dare to defy The Empress?!'

'Lord Berthold,' Emily spoke, her voice firm, but cold. She stood up gracefully and put her right hand in her left palm, and held her hands at her vest's height, the way Anna Maria had taught her.

She scanned the whole court, and wasn't surprised to find a few of them losing interest as they looked at her.

'Lord Lacquert,' she spoke, looking at him. 'I will have Miss Willow Ride interrogated in the safe room itself. And The Lord Protector will be put to questioning too, again in the safe room. I will be there while they are questioned, and you will also be joining me.' She said, and he bowed low in acceptance. Emily looked at Berthold.

'Come here, please,' she said to him, showing her palm to the stairs of her pedestal. Berthold bowed, lowered his head and bent down on one knee on the stairs. 'Yes, Your Highness?' He asked, looking up at her.

She slapped him.

The sound seemed to echo in everybody's ears, and Corvo looked at her, bewildered. Berthold held his head low, his cheek turning a bright red.

Everyone's breath was held in their throats, and nobody even breathed a whisper.

Emily kept staring at him coldly as she snapped her fingers at The Royal Spokesperson.

He walked up to her, bowing low. A maid from behind her throne brought her a tray with papers on it, on Emily's gesture. Emily took them in one hand, and handed it over to The Royal Spokesperson. He bowed again, and walked to the foot of the pedestal.

'Do not forget your place,' She said aloud, looking at Berthold, but the message reached everybody's ears.

The royal Spokesperson read out what was written in the papers, and as they heard it, all their faces went pale, and Berthold's was white.

It was an account of all his crimes, his cons and frauds, which came to the bottom line that he had caused a great loss to the economy.

He was arrested immediately, and dragged to the prison.

Corvo looked down at Emily.

'I know I asked for half an hour,' she said. 'But it took the officer an hour to get the papers together. Lord Berthold hid his crimes well, but not very well.'

She smiled - a true, innocent smile.

Corvo walked hastily to Emily's room, ignoring the fact that she was asleep. The interrogation of himself and Willow Ride was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, and it kept bothering him too much. If what Earnest Lacquert had said was true, and Willow's history and the details of her mother's death were really clean, then he could relax, but he knew that the Overseers could dig it out. Just as the Heart had said to him - They always find the guilt they seek.

Even if that panned out well, there was the matter of the diary that Willow had with her, with all the notes of Hypnotism. The Overseers would definitely check her room, and if they found it, she would be hanged.

He was about to knock on her door, and stopped. Emily didn't know Willow well. He couldn't ask her for a blind favour and have the interrogation called off. That would fall hard on Emily.

He drew back his hand and took a deep breath.

He walked back to his chamber and closed the door. He pulled out the drawer of his study and grabbed a paper and pen. He bent over the table and hastily scribbled on the paper until he was satisfied with what he had written. He folded it up and stuffed it in the pocket of his black robe.

He grabbed a small piece of telegram paper and scribbled a tiny message on it. Then he called one of the guards and summoned the messenger, and had the telegram sent to Captain Geoff Curnow.

He then went to his bed, and lay back, closing his eyes.

**That's it for this chapter. Hope you liked it! Leave a review for me, right down there. I really need to know how it's been so far, and I need suggestions and encouragement. Please tell me what you think of this chapter, and if going ahead with the more of the court dealings in this story is okay.**

**Thank you for reading!**

**P.S: LOVE the AC Unity trailer. If you haven't watched it yet, you should. It looks so amazing! I'm not sure I'll get it though. For now I have my eyes on Watch Dogs.**

**xoxoxo**


	7. A False Guilt

Seven - **A False Guilt**

A soft, cool breeze woke Corvo up. He slowly sat up and looked at the was a blue fog hovering in the air, and the gentle breeze felt soothing against his warm skin. He looked at the clock.

4:00.

It was time. He got onto his feet and hastily pulled the black robe from the wardrobe. He walked out of his room, tying the robe at his waist, looking around to make sure that none of the guards could see him. He went upstairs into the Fireplace room, where him and Jessamine had spent a lot of nights talking and joking around. He closed the door gently behind him and looked back at the dark room, and saw the dark figure of a man standing up from the sofa.

Captain Geoff Curnow.

'Did you finish the job?' Corvo asked him in a low voice as he walked towards Geoff Curnow.

'Good to see you too, my friend,' He smiled, slapping Corvo on the shoulder. Corvo gave him a meaningful look.

'Yes I did,' Geoff answered immediately, 'I went upstairs to visit that pretty young lady in the safe house, took the package from her and delivered your message.'

'What did she say?' Corvo asked, feeling a faint relief.

'Well, she seemed really surprised at first when I showed her your telegram, and she even refused to give me - whatever the hell was in that package. I had to convince her. She seemed really hesitant about the whole idea.'

'Did you deliver the package to Samuel?' Corvo asked, after giving a hasty nod.

'Yeah, of course I did. He wasn't surprised at all,' Geoff answered. He looked like he had a million questions, but before all that stood the thought that Corvo had once saved his life. He did not know if he was upto good or bad, but he was certain that he would help him out as much as he needed to, because his debt could never be repaid.

Corvo closed his eyes for a moment and sighed in relief. 'Good. Thanks,' he mumbled, resting his hand on top of the sofa.

'Corvo,' Geoff uttered, 'I know I should probably not be asking you this, but I have to. Did helping you put me in some kind of danger? With the Overseers, perhaps?'

'Not unless you shared this secret with someone else,' Corvo said, looking at him carefully.

'Oh. Well then, I guess I'm in trouble,' Geoff mumbled to himself, looking at the floor. Corvo's eyes widened as he looked at the short man standing in front of him, and he opened his mouth to say something, but he was at loss for words.

Geoff grinned boyishly and slapped him on the shoulder again. Corvo closed his eyes and took a deep breath in relief.

'Don't worry, Milord. All's well,' He said to him. His neatly combed hair was swept back, not a strand out of place. He settled his scabbard once and laughed again. 'If those Overseer bastards even dare to look up at you with suspicion, I swear I'll piss in every cup of holy wine shit that they make before The Fugue Feast.'

Corvo couldn't help but laugh. That was something he would pay to watch instead of the incredibly boring Act they put on stage. 'I appreciate your help. Thanks,' Corvo said once again.

'Can I ask you what was in that package?' Geoff asked.

'You can,' Corvo nodded slightly.

'Will I get an answer?'

'No.'

'A clue?'

'No.'

'Never mind then,' Geoff nodded once. 'Good luck to you my friend. Especially with that interrogation you have today.'

Corvo gave a slight nod and looked at him as he walked out of the room. A band of light illuminated the dark room as Geoff opened the door, but quickly dwindled as he closed it behind him. Corvo walked forward and used the small torch and match stick to light up a serene blue flame in the fireplace, and grabbed an old cigarette from the cigar box on top of the tea table in front of the sofa. He lit it up and sat back in the sofa, staring at the golden ribbons of light that the flame cast

on the maroon colored carpet. Bringing the cigarette back to his mouth, he was reminded of all the times he had spent in the same place with Jessamine.

He looked to his right, and saw the empty sofa, the flames making a golden border on the turquoise material of the cushion.

He could almost picture Jessamine, sitting beside him, robed in layers of white satin and chiffon, her black hair cascading down her shoulders. He could recall the image of her, holding a cigarette in her hand, speaking, occasionally laughing, and sometimes lost in thought as her dark eyes reflected the embers of the fire.

There were times when he wanted desperately to embrace her, to comfort her, to feel like he was just a normal man hugging the woman he loved, to pretend like there was no pressure on him at all. But of course, he never did. He never felt a desire to touch her or bring her to his bed.

His love for Jessamine was pure, unconditional, unadulterated - he saw her as a Goddess, an angel that was meant to be in her own space, a pure form that nobody could stain, and he was more than proud that he had the responsibility of keeping all evil away from his Goddess.

Even though, in the end, he had failed.

Corvo shut his eyes tightly for a few seconds, and stood up, taking a last draw from his cigarette. He then tossed it into the flames, and put out the fire. By the time he was back in his chamber, it was five in the morning. He took a long shower and put on his clothes. He looked down at his mark, and sighed. He knew that there was a high risk of getting caught, if the Overseers ever asked him to take off his gloves. It would be worse if it started burning and glowing during the interrogation. He sat at the edge of his bed for a minute, thinking about an effective way to hide the symbol.

An idea crossed his mind. He pulled out his dagger and in a swift movement, he made a shallow cut on his palm, just enough for the blood to ooze out from the incision. He then wrapped his hand in layers of bandage, carefully covering the symbol. The blood made a red taint on the bandage. He flexed his fingers with ease, because this kind of pain meant nothing to him.

He then put on his black gloves and walked out of his chamber. As he walked past Emily's room, she suddenly swung the doors open and looked at him. She pulled him inside and locked the doors hastily.

'Whats wrong?' Corvo asked, slightly surprised.

'What are you planning about that mark of yours?' she asked him, taking his left hand in hers. She pulled out the gloves, and examined the bandage. Corvo couldn't help but notice how mature she looked. It wasn't her physical appearance that had changed, but her manners, her expressions. She didn't hold that childish look on her face anymore, and the sparkle in her eyes was dim. She looked like she had suddenly aged a ten years, like the innocent playful child in her had suddenly been replaced by a boring Professor.

Corvo felt a sting in his heart.

'Did you cut yourself Corvo?' she asked, looking up at him.

'Yeah,' He answered looking away from her.

'Well. . .' She slowly loosened the bandage and took it off. 'That's smart, but it might still not work. Come here,' She led him to her dressing table, where there were three life sized mirrors behind a golden table full of exotic perfumes, colorful ribbons, ornate laces and a few cosmetics. She uncapped a small beaded box, in which was a skin colored dense liquid.

'It's called foundation cream or something,' Emily explained to him, using a brush and dabbing it in the liquid. She looked hesitant and doubtful, and Corvo knew well that she had no experience of using it before.

'Anna Maria used to put it on me before those boring balls and parties. I saw mother using it a lot of times too. This might help?' She looked more doubtful than him, and her fingers trembled as she dabbled the liquid on his hand.

'Emily,' Corvo spoke, 'Here, let me do it.'

She nodded hastily and gave him the brush. Corvo roughly covered up the mark, and after a while of broken tries, it covered the mark well. It was almost convincing from a short distance.

'Not bad,' Emily breathed, playing nervously with a ribbon. She looked up at Corvo for a while, her eyes pleading, begging for help. Then she threw her arms around him and burst into tears.

'Promise me, nothing will happen to you,' She pleaded. 'If you leave, Corvo , I-I'll die!'

'I promise,' Corvo nodded, as he gently stroked her hair. He pulled her back, knelt down and gently kissed her forehead. 'I promise I won't leave you, Emily. Ever.'

She threw his arms around him again, sobbing.

Willow looked at herself in the mirror, and slowly combed her long black hair. She remembered the Overseer from yesterday, who had visited her and informed her of the interrogation. She had said nothing, and simply nodded. She had almost expected it.

She turned back to look at the chest in the corner of the room, and once again hoped that wherever Corvo had sent the book of hypnotism, it was safe. She quickly tied her bun and put on her vest.

The interrogation would begin at eight, and it was only six in the morning. Even though a faint, weak sunlight was gushing through her window, she felt dark, depressed, like there was someone else in the room with her. She shook her head and walked to the window, and looked out at the colorful sky, at the shades of orange, yellow and blue that spread across on top of the city. The long metal pillars of Kaldwin's bridge gleamed brilliantly in the first rays of the sun, and the waters of the river sparkled in bright golden flashes, flowing at a calm pace.

She felt like nature was making a mockery of the situation, by choosing this day in The Month of Rain to show off its beauty to the world. She pulled the curtains close and walked out of her room. A knock sounded on the door, and she walked downstairs. It was the servants, who were assigned by the Overseers to clean the place for The Empress and The High Overseer. Willow left the place to them and went down to the lab to perform her duties.

Surprisingly, she found that the door had already been unlocked, and Sokolov and Piero were inside, seated in the main room on the experiment table.

'Good morning, sir,' she wished gently as she walked towards them.

'It's outrageous, isn't it? Simply outrageous!' Sokolov exclaimed in reply. 'Just because some hooligan in noble shoes make a completely irrational statement, they want to interrogate MY apprentice. Why not simply accuse my whole academy then?! I'm telling you, Willow, that bastard Earnest will pay for this. He won't be getting away so easily now!'

'Calm down, Sokolov,' Piero said. 'We all know that Willow is innocent in this matter. Just think of this as another of her tests in the academy.'

'Hmm. I suppose,' Sokolov stood up and put both his hands on Willow's shoulders. 'And you will fare in this test with flying colors, just like you did in the academy. Don't you worry, Ride. I have a strong influence on all these idiots.'

'Thank you, sir,' Willow gave a small smile.

'You don't have to work until the questioning is done with,' Piero said to her. 'You should eat well. Have a nutritious breakfast to avoid any signs of nervousness or false impressions during the interrogation. Trust me, the Overseers will pressure you a lot. If you're physically weak you might break.'

'Yes sir. I will, thank you.'

'And throw the answers in their faces, Ride!' Sokolov exclaimed. 'Those religious bastards ought to know their place before they can point a finger at MY apprentice!'

'I will try, sir.'

'If they cross their limits, do not hesitate to bring up my name!' Sokolov continued. 'They will shut up then and there, those snooping bitches!'

'I will, sir.'

'Good!' Sokolov sat down once again, grumbling under his breath and occasionally cursing them, with loud 'Can you believe it?!' at Piero.

Willow simply walked upstairs to the roof again, and waited at the compound wall, looking at the early sunrise.

She couldn't help but think of the book, because if it was lost, there would be no meaning to her goal. She wanted the interrogation to be over fast.

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder, a simple, light touch.

She looked back to find Corvo. He with drew his hand gently and rested his elbows on the wall, looking at the sunrise.

'What about your mark?' Willow asked him, in a low voice.

He pulled out his glove and turned his palm over to reveal the bandaged cut. Willow looked up at his face.

'Is the book -'

'It's safe. It's with an old friend of mine,' He answered. 'Don't worry.'

'Where's The Empress?'' Willow asked.

'She's with the Overseers. I was told to get to the safe house because they had to discuss something. I left a bunch of my guards with her.'

Willow nodded and turned to him. 'Thank you,' she said. 'I am truly grateful for your help, sir. I don't know how I can repay you.'

'Call me Corvo,' He said as he looked back at her. 'And there is a way to repay me.'

She looked at him for a few seconds, and the words sank in. 'You want me to do the hypnotism on you.'

'I want you to try,' He said. ' Once. If I cannot know why this is happening to me, I might as well forget all those things and concentrate on Emily.'

'What if something unspeakable happens?' she asked. 'What if you go mad?'

'I won't,' He answered plainly. 'I believe you're smart enough to not let that happen.'

'You don't know that.'

'Simply, Ride, what I mean is that - I trust you.' He looked at her dark eyes, the sudden flash of surprise, and then the warmth that made them shine, reflecting the light of the morning sun. 'It's not everyday that I say that to someone. And I'm not saying it to convince you either. I helped you for a reason - you're worth it.'

She didn't know what to make out of his words. They seemed so neutral in every way, and yet he had convinced her.

She knew from time and experience that Corvo wasn't the kind of person who could talk to people and make them laugh. He preferred to be alone, and barely spoke to anybody. He was also not the kind of person that would say false things to others in the hope of convincing them.

If he said something like that, he must have meant it, straight forward.

'Okay then,' she almost whispered, lost in thought. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, and opened them once again to look at his deep brown orbs. 'Only once. And then you abandon the idea forever and never mention it to a soul.'

He nodded.

He wanted to look away from her, look back at the sunrise, at the orange hues that spread across the sky - but he couldn't.

His gaze was fixed on her. He felt a strange warmth, watching her standing before him, looking at the sunrise. The light made a soft golden border on her wheatish skin, and her eyes were the color of pure chocolate. She had no strange aura at all, unlike so many other women that he usually saw. She didn't have a sexual appeal, or anything in her personality that would send off any sort of sexual vibes to any man.

And yet, he knew he was drawn to her.

He wasn't struck by her, or any other heavy emotions that they usually used to describe a man's romantic side in plays and novels. He was attracted to her, surely - but not captivated. He didn't think of her every moment of the day. He thought of her only when he was alone, even though the thoughts were usually intense. The feelings that he had for her simply made him more curious, because he couldn't point out why and when he had sprouted those feelings.

'I hate this city,' She suddenly whispered. Corvo said nothing. He gazed at her for a few seconds, and then looked back at the sky, where the sun was already up.

The interrogation began at eight. The Overseers set up a whole scene in the planning room, with every equipment they could possibly use - including blue lamps, red velvet ribbons, a slab with the strictures carved on it and also the music box. There were seven books in the center of the table, aligned horizontally on top of a deep blue running cloth. There were four blue lamps on the table, one in each corner. The whole room smelled of incense and burning wax. There was one big wooden chair with red cushions, placed at the far end of the table towards the wall - The seat of The High Overseer. Beside it was another big luxurious chair with navy blue cushions, more ornate that the first, decorated with long, thick ribbons of deep blue, with royal looking embroidery, The seat of The Empress.

Looking at the whole arrangement, Corvo felt sick. He was the first to go, and his seat was a plain wooden chair placed on the opposite end.

There was only one Overseer in the room, and he held the music box that Corvo hated so much. He was playing it, but at a very low volume and intensity, mainly to set up the "Overseer mood" in the room, and so it didn't affect Corvo much.

'Good morning, Corvo,' High Overseer Sturgess wished him grimly as he entered the room. Corvo bowed to him, and then to Emily before taking his seat.

'Make the vow, please,' The High Overseer said, showing the seven books on the table.

Corvo put both his hands on the table, palms facing up.

'Your gloves, sire,' The Overseer with the music box reminded him humbly.

Corvo took a deep breath and removed his gloves carefully, placing them aside. He could almost feel Emily tensing up.

Neither of the Overseers seemed to mind his bandaged wound, which gave him a little relief.

'May I?' Corvo asked in a low voice. The High Overseer gave a nod.

Corvo cleared his throat, and spoke:

' I shall hereby speak nothing but the truth, and the truth only. I shall humbly submit to the greatness of The Divine Power, The Lord Almighty. I shall not give in to weakness and cowardice under the influence of evil and darkness, but face it and do what is right, carrying out the Seven Strictures with pride. I, Corvo Attano, make this Vow in the presence of His Eminence, The High Overseer, and shall fully accept the consequences of being a heretic, if so declared by him.'

_Most of that vow is shit anyway,_ he thought.

Then the interrogation began, and most of the questions were predictable to Corvo, so he had no trouble. It went on for an hour, at when it finally ended, he felt a little dizzy because of that music box.

High Overseer Sturgess looked convinced, and the relieved smile on Emily's face made Corvo feel better.

' The subject, Lord Corvo Attano, is pure and good willed, and is in no way committed to any form of heresy. I, The High Overseer, hereby declare him clean and righteous.'

_If only you knew,_ Corvo thought to himself.

The final ending of the interrogation was marked by The High Overseer cutting a black thread held on both ends by the subject, which, according to them, represented any form of heresy during the "interrogation".

Corvo bowed , gathered his gloves and left. He was escorted downstairs by an Overseer at the door, and flashed a wry smile at Willow as she looked at him.

Willow walked upstairs, her heart pounding faintly.

When the door closed behind her, she bowed twice and took her seat.

'Your vow, Miss Ride,' High Overseer said. Willow looked at him, confused.

'Pardon me,' she said, 'I would like to read it out from a paper.'

The High Overseer seemed a little displeased, but gave her the permission. The Overseer with the music box gave her the scroll with the vow, and she read it out loud.

The questions were simple, but when it went to her family, she was forced to lie and tell them that her mother and father had died at sea in a terrible storm, and that the boat or their remains were never found. She could tell by his expression that he did not fully believe it. When they went further into her life, at all the years she had spent in the Academy, High Overseer Sturgess seemed a little impressed. She told him about all the years in the Academy, and how she had been the first student in most of the subjects.

By the end, he didn't look very happy, but not very suspicious either.

Downstairs, Corvo was waiting among the bookshelves, watching the planning room intently. Willow seemed to be fine by herself. He was about to leave the safe room - when he heard a familiar sound.

It was faint, barely audible, but if he shut out the chatters of the Overseer guards and the voices from the planning room, he could hear it, like a thin trace of smoke.

A very, very familiar sound.

He suddenly knew what was about to happen. He walked to the center of the room, looking up nervously. He felt like every part of his body had suddenly heated up, and he could even feel a drop of sweat trickling down his temple. He looked around in confusion.

'Well, Miss Ride,' High Overseer said, 'I suppose you are clean.'

Willow exhaled in relief and smiled to herself.

'But there is still more,' High Overseer continued. 'Please excuse my guards as they search your room.'

'Sure,' Willow nodded, realizing at that moment how grateful she really was to Corvo.

Two Overseers entered the room, bowed, and went into Willow's bedroom. They worked fast, simply glancing around, moving a few things and looking into drawers. Willow watched them carefully, when she felt a sudden light hit on the back of her shoe. She saw that the High Overseer was busy looking in her room, and Emily was reading a small book.

She slowly looked back, and through the banister, she could see Corvo, alone downstairs, looking up at her. He looked panicked and angry. She looked down at her shoe, and pretending to buckle them, she discreetly unfolded the crumpled piece of paper.

'DON'T RUN. DON'T WORRY. I'LL SAVE YOU.'

It was scribbled across roughly, and it immediately drowned her in confusion.

'My lord,' One of the Overseer guards spoke. Willow hastily shoved the paper into her shoe and sat up straight.

She found the two Overseers whispering to The High Overseer, and Emily looked at Willow, her expression a mix of surprise and pain.

'Who would have thought,' High Overseer said, holding something in his hand, something small. He looked at Willow coldly.

'I hereby declare Willow Teagan Ride unclean! She is a branch of evil, and ought to be hanged within a period of Seven days. No form of heresy shall go unpunished!'

Willow felt like time had suddenly frozen. And then there was a sudden outburst of events, all of which happened too fast for her to fathom - but there was one thing that she had seen and recognized, and it was in The High Overseer's hands.

A Bone Charm.

**Greetings, reader!**

**I know this chapter was kinda late, but I was so lost with Watch Dogs. Yes, I finally bought it! **

**It was a great game, but was it worth one whole year of waiting? No. Knowing Ubisoft, they could actually do better, but anyway, it was fun.**

**Not as fun as Dishonored lol.**

**Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews people, it means so much to me! I'm so glad you guys like this story!**

**So until next chapter!**

**xoxoxoxo**


	8. Deep In The Earth

**Eight** - Deep In The Earth

When Willow gained her consciousness again, she found herself in a dark room. For a few moments, she saw nothing but darkness. She couldn't even tell if there was somebody else or something else was in the room with her. Immediately, she knew where she was.

Coldridge prison.

Her heart sank. 'Oh no . .' she nearly whispered, feeling a lump in her throat, a wetness in her eyes. 'Oh no, no, no . .'  
She pressed her closed fist to her forehead, tears streaming down her face, her lips bent in a deep frown.  
Where did the Overseers even find the Bone Charm? Who had put it in her room? Who could want to see her hanged?

She barely even spoke to people. She never had any friends. She was never particularly rude to anybody either.

_What's the use?_ voice in her head spoke. _It doesn't matter who it was. Not anymore. Whoever it is, they got you. You're going to die._

She shook her head slowly, wiping the tears from her face. She sat up with difficulty, and looked down at the wooden cot she had been lying on. A small rat scurried towards her foot in the darkness, and she pulled her legs onto the cot carefully. She looked at the cell bars, and through them she could see a metal corridor, and a number of other cells. She had visited the prison twice before for the Academy, and from her experience she recognized the corridor as that of the second floor's.

She buried her face in her folded legs, her eyes wide open, staring at the darkness. Looking at her shoe, and remembered the note Corvo had thrown at her.

She dug her fingers into her shoe and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper. She read the words over and over again, trying to build up hope, telling herself that Corvo would really come and get her.

Tears rolled down her cheek again, no sound escaping from her throat. She folded it up and shoved it into her shoe again, and slowly got up. She walked to the bars and looked outside. On the other side, Willow saw another cell, and inside was a curled up form, rolled in layers of blankets on the cot. She could only see a little white hair, and was certain that it was a man. She wiped her cheeks clean and poked her head out. From the right end of the corridor, Willow saw a prison guard patrolling. He suddenly looked at her.

She pulled her head back in, watching him walk towards her cell. He looked tired, bored.  
He used the hilt of his sword to hit one of the bars of her cell, glaring at her.

'So you're the little missy they all keep talkin' bout,' he said, giving her a once-over. His eyes lingered for a few seconds on her silver pocket watch. Willow dug her hand into her pocket, holding it in. She gave him a genuine look.

'Fresh into prison. All dressed in leather boots an' fancy suits,' He shook his head slowly several times, like he pitied her. 'Better be careful at eat times an' play times, missy. A fish out'a water that oughta kick the bucket in seven days, not many folks in 'ere take that as a "keep away" sign.' He looked at her sharply. 'Know what I mean?'

Willow flushed, feeling intensely feminine. 'Yes,' She replied, nodding.

"'Good,' he lingered for a few seconds, looking her over and over again. 'What could you've done,eh?' he said, almost to himself. There was an edge to his words, something that hinted his experience in the prison, his years of seeing criminals of various classes and creeds, being pushed into cells, being hanged and shot. He knew that half of them had been innocent, set into a death trap by the the scumbags that called themselves "Elite".

Looking at Willow, he immediately knew she was innocent. He shook his head in pity, hit the cell bar again, and commanded loudly, 'No poking yer heads out.'

He looked at the other cell, and left.

Willow sat back on the wooden cot. She pulled out her silver pocket watch and unclipped it from the hem of her vest. The patterns on it were beautiful, and to anybody it looked like an expensive silver jewelry. On the inside, it was plain copper. Tying the metal chain into a loose knot, she carefully hid the watch under her pillow. She unbuttoned her vest, and laid it out on the cot beneath her. Her vest was mainly what made her dress look expensive, and she couldn't afford to make that impression on the other prisoners. She slowly undid her bun, letting her hair fall loosely on her shoulders.

Leaning to the wall, she gently stroked a wisp of her hair over and over, watching the dark roof. Another lump formed in her throat, and before she could stop herself, tears rolled down her cheeks again.

'She has been set up, I tell you!' Sokolov exclaimed, walking in large, heavy strides, his hands swinging at his sides showing the full extent of his anger.  
Corvo said nothing as he walked beside him, his face gaunt.

'I have known her for three years, and notem once/em did I find her doing any sort of deranged activity!' He yelled, walking down the stairs from the lab.  
'Stop, Sokolov,' Corvo said to him, following him in quick paces. 'We have to sort this out carefully. You cannot just walk into court and yell at everybody.'

"Sokolov stopped abruptly and looked up at him, bewildered. 'So I just sit here all day and let it go?!' He shouted. 'You don't understand, Corvo! They have not only insulted my apprentice, but my Academy as well! How dare they sentence her to death?!'  
'Stop. I know this seems outrageous, but it will not work like this,' Corvo said to him. 'I consulted you because I need you to defend Willow in court. But if this is your point, it will never work, Sokolov.'

'Oh, is that so?!' Sokolov exclaimed louder. 'What is your brilliant mind up to, may I dare ask?!'  
Corvo gave him a meaningful look. 'Go back to your study,' he ordered. 'I'll call you when you are needed.'  
'Are you ordering me?!'  
'Yes. Go, now. You're not helping.'  
'How dare you!'  
'I trust you haven't forgotten the kennels back at Hound Pits.'  
Sokolov stopped dead for a moment.  
'I will call for you when you're needed in court. Make a fair argument,' Corvo said to him, and walked downstairs.

He had to make a great plan. He knew now that whoever had put the Bone Charm in Willow's room had been paid a great amount, and he was suspicious about a few people, mainly Earnest Lacquert who had set up the interrogation in the first place.  
He knew that there was a more than fair chance of him getting caught, but it didn't even cross his mind once that Willow could get caught up.  
Now he had to get her out, and he had to do it within seven days.

Corvo went into his room and locked the door behind him. He paced the floor again and again, making up a plan in his mind.  
He had to get in contact with someone that worked in the prison. He had to make an indirect line to be able to communicate with Willow and direct her.  
He could ask Geoff Curnow for that.  
He had to get at least two prison guards on his side, and he didn't mind bribing them. He needed to carry out her escape from the inside.

'Corvo?' A familiar voice distracted him, followed by three knocks. He opened the door to find Piero.  
He was wearing a brown vest, buttoned up neatly. His expression was monotonous as always, and his glasses reflected the light too brilliantly.  
'May I have a word?' He asked.  
Corvo nodded and let him in. He closed the door behind him, still thinking about his plan.  
'You seemed to have upset Sokolov a little,' Piero said. 'He constantly grumbles on about showing you your place.'  
'Did I?' Corvo uttered half-mindedly.  
'He probably deserved it, my guess,' Piero mumbled. 'Now about Willow.'  
'I'm thinking,' Corvo said, finally looking at him. 'I just need contact with a prison guard . .'  
'Prison guards?'  
'Yes. Then it'll be much easier to sneak her out of that place.'  
'Sneak her out of the prison?'  
Corvo nodded. 'I may need your help, Piero.'  
'With a plan?'  
Corvo nodded.  
'Why, Corvo,' he said, shaking his head slowly. 'You underestimate yourself.'  
Corvo said nothing, because he knew where this was heading. He had been trying to avoid this.  
Piero settled his spects.  
'All you need is your mask.'

Willow had a hard time trying to sleep. Somewhere on the cot, there was a small pointy nail that kept pricking her shoulder, but she couldn't see it in the darkness.  
She sat up after several failed attempts and simply looked at the corridor.  
She could hear two guards joking around and laughing, accompanied by the loud snoring of one of the prisoners. The place smelled even worse at night, with the rats pooping in corners. The stench from the toilet seemed to be getting more and more unbearable.  
Her stomach was grumbling, and she couldn't help but think of food.  
Not taking her eyes off the door, she dug out her pocket watch and saw that the time was nine. The corridors were darker compared to day time.  
Suddenly she heard the sounds of metal plates and cell doors being opened. They were giving out food to the prisoners.

Willow put the watch back in its place and looked at the door in anticipation.  
After a few moments, two guards walked to her door, looking inside. Neither of them was the prison guard from before.  
'Hello, lady,' The first one drawled, posing a crooked grin. 'We got your food!'  
Willow tensed up looking at their faces.  
The second guard unlocked the door, allowing the first one to step in. He held her plate in his hands, and harshly put it on the floor.  
He looked at Willow and grinned again, looking her over.  
'Come on now,' He called, 'We're gonna come back in fifteen minutes for the plate, girlie. If it's not empty by then, it's going in the trash. No second servings, no extra food. Now be a good girl,' He grinned again, and then the both of them left, locking the door behind them.

Willow took the plate in her hands, and saw a stale, rough roll of bread, and a metal glass of dirty water. She could even see something moving in the water.  
Putting the glass aside, she devoured the roll of bread, even though it tasted like mud.  
Her stomach was still half-empty. She walked to the door, stepping into the light.  
Pouring some of the water into her palm, she wiped her face twice, and looked out into the corridor. In the opposite cell, the old man with white hair was awake, chewing lazily on his bread.

He noticed her looking at him, and weakly raised a hand.  
Willow was slightly surprised, but nonetheless, she waved at him.  
He put his plate aside, and stood up with a lot of effort. He limped to the cell door, and spoke something that she could not hear.  
'Excuse me?' Willow asked humbly.  
'Why are you here?' He asked her, holding a bar.  
She didn't know how to answer that question. She said nothing, looking at him blankly.  
'I . . . well, I stole silverware from my master,' She finally said. It was better to lie and give him a valid reason, because the truth was complicated.  
'Ah,' He nodded grimly. 'Whatever you say.'

Willow flushed. 'And you?' she asked him.  
'I didn't pay my taxes,' He replied, with a shrug. 'Third time I'm in for that.'  
'That's it?' Willow uttered, almost to herself. 'For how long are you staying?'  
He moved his fingers weakly in the air, and said, 'Three months, maybe.'  
'Three months?' Willow repeated, appalled. 'Three months for not paying taxes?'

He shrugged again. 'Not that me staying in prison affects anyone. I have no family and all that, so basically for me prison is . . free food, I guess.'  
Willow's lips curled into a wry smile.

'What about you?' He asked. 'Any family?'  
Willow shook her head. 'No one,' she mumbled.

'Back into your beds!' A prison guard yelled from the end of the corridor, ringing a very noisy bell. 'If I find anybody out'a their beds, they goin' for and extra round of cleanin' tomorrow!'

'Good night,' The older man said to her, getting back into his bed. Willow smiled, lingering at the door for a few seconds, thinking about her mother, her childhood days with her.  
Then she slowly retired to the wooden cot.

Corvo opened the very familiar metal door to the hound pits pub, and stepped in. It was already past closing time, but he had sent Samuel a message through one of Curnow's guards asking him to leave the door open.

The place smelled too cozy for him to match the memories of his time spent there.  
There was a soft yellow flame in the fireplace, and the whole air smelled of burning wood, wine and cooked meat. Usually the combination of the three odors would be too strong for any place, but in here, the fragrance of the polished wood and fireplace seemed to mellow down and mingle with the sweet smell of wine, together making an odor that relaxed his nerves whenever he inhaled. The place was dim, with two lamps lighted on the counter. There was another small blob of golden flame, which came from a white candle on one of the tables. Samuel sat in front of the candle, smoking a cigar. He turned back and looked at Corvo, and put out his cigar in the ash tray.

'Well, I'm guessing you're in trouble again, huh?' He said, standing up. Walking to the bar counter, he said, 'Want me to fetch you a drink?'  
'Yes,' Corvo replied, sitting down at the counter.  
Samuel went behind the counter and pulled out a half-full bottle of whiskey. He pulled out a glass, occasionally looking up at Corvo.  
'May I ask what you're here for?' Samuel queried. 'I'm guessing it's something illegal again?'  
'I need to get someone out of prison, and I have six days,' Corvo said, taking the glass that Samuel handed to him.  
'What are they in for?'  
'She was set up,' Corvo said. 'Someone put a bone charm in her room and the Overseers found it.' He drank his whiskey, keeping his eyes on one of the lamps.  
'So what d'you need my help for?' Samuel asked, resting his elbows on the wooden counter.  
Corvo put his glass down, staring at the mark on his hand.  
He could feel blood again, see people dying. And he knew that more of them were going to die soon.  
He folded his hands on the counter, and looked at Samuel. His face was firm, but something in his eyes hinted fear, hesitation.  
'I need it,' He finally said, unable to bring up any more words.  
Samuel looked down, and Corvo knew that he had understood.  
'You got a proper plan you'll carry out anytime soon?' Samuel asked.  
'No. I still need to plan it out,' Corvo answered.  
Samuel nodded.

Corvo's secret was buried deep under the Earth, safe in a wooden chest in the backyard of the pub. It was behind the shed, and looked just like a clean piece of mowed lawn.  
Samuel led Corvo to the patch of land, and dug in with his shovel. Corvo watched as every handful of mud fell away, and his eyes flashed a twinkle when the shovel hit a hard surface.

It was a new moon night, so the entire place was pitch dark. The only source of light was the lamp that Samuel had brought with him.  
Samuel bent down and cleared the mud off of the wooden surface, and brought the lamp above it. The golden light revealed a deep brown chest, and Corvo bent down on one knee, his eyes fixed on it. He pulled the chest out, and put it down beside the hole.  
'Here,' Samuel said, handing out a rusted key. Corvo hesitated for a moment, and his hand stopped in mid air.  
Samuel observed his expression, the strange darkness that hovered in his eyes.

'Sometimes, Corvo,' he said aloud, 'We all have to confront our inner demons.'  
Corvo looked up at him, listening intently.  
'People have different ways of doing it,' He continued. 'Dark times require desperate, dark measures. You, my friend, ought to know this better than anybody else.'  
He handed out the key again, and Corvo left his hand there for a few seconds. Then he nodded, and slowly took it in his hands.  
He unlocked the chest, and opened it.

There it was, staring blankly at him - the darkest part of his soul molded and carved to look just as terrifying as his inner demons. It seemed to be mocking him somehow, making fun of all his weaknesses that _it_ chose to ignore.  
It was laughing at him - a cruel, meaningless laugh laced with power and invincibility.  
His inner evil.

He took it in his hands, and stood up.  
'Thanks,' He said to him.  
'When should I expect a headline?' He asked.  
Corvo looked back at the mask, and shook his head slowly. 'Not anytime soon,' He mumbled. 'I need to leave. Goodbye, Samuel.'  
Samuel bowed his head gently.

**Damn it people, I seriously need some reviews here. If you guys don't like it, there's no point in publishing more chapters.**

**Btw, thanks for reading, love you guys.**

**xoxoxo**


	9. A Ghastly Shadow

**Nine** – A Ghastly Shadow

When Willow woke up the next day, she found herself staring at the same dark metal roof looming down on her. It felt like it could snap at any moment and crush her, not even sparing her the time to scream.

It didn't seem like a very bad idea at the moment.

She could hear the rats screeching in the corner, a typical sound that indicated their aggressive nature. Closing her eyes shut again, she told herself that she needed to get her mind off of her current situation. Even if there was a little flash of hope anywhere, she was ready to catch it and dwell on it for the remaining six days. She couldn't let herself fall into the abyss, not yet.

To distract her mind, she tried to remember things from all the books she had read.

Gently resting her hand on her forehead, she played a game in her mind:

_How big is the average bull rat?_

_What's the differnce between the electric circuit of the wall of light and the arc pylon?_

_What is the metal used for the construction of the new age building?_

_When and where did the art of swordsmanship originate? . . ._

She found that she had been asking herself the questions to which she knew the answers perfectly. She shook her head in disdain and tried to keep her mind blank for a few minutes. The harder she tried, the more distracted her mind became.

Soon she wasn't trying to keep her mind empty. A wave of memories was flooding her, and she met with them in a spectacular way, her mind instantly leaving behind the present and embracing the past.

She could almost see the wooden farm house, hidden away in the far Eastern shores of Gristol, surrounded by a lush garden full of green grass and white daisies.

The fragrance of freshly watered grass filled the air, and the soft sun touched her skin gently.

This was a long, long time ago . . .

When she was barely eight, and had her black hair cut in a boyish style. Back when her mother was still alive.

"_Willie, breakfast is ready. Come on!"_

The words still echoed in Willow's ears, and her mind conjured up the warm image of her mother, dressed in her robes, standing at the entrance and calling her.

There were even rare times when she called her to watch one of her "special sessions". There was a small room in the attic, in which was an operating bed and a tall, black lamp that made a soft golden light. The bed was always neatly covered in white and peach colored blankets. Beside the bed was a stool on which her mother would sit. There was a separate chair for Willow in the corner, placed at a distance from the bed.

She could remember the things that her mother said to her clients before beginning the session.

"_How was your day? How are you feeling? . . . . . Any special events today? . . . . Let's talk about your night time dreams. Maybe it'll help . . ."_

The stories that her mother told her about different lands and people always fascinated her.

"_Mummy, what's a whale?"_

"_A whale? Well, it's a really big fish that lives in the ocean."_

"_How big?"_

"_Hmm . . . Big enough to eat you up!"_

"_Aah!"_

Her memories drifted far ahead, skipping the dreadful time when she had lost her mother. She remembered the five weeks she had spent in an orphanage before her uncle stepped into her life and adopted her.

As a child, she never had any friends in her town, especially when she was in the orphanage. She had once been given a solid beating from one of the ladies that ran the place, because she had punched another orphan boy who repeatedly called her mother a witch.

About ten years later, when she was eighteen, her uncle passed away too, and his wife – Aunt Tamina, as she remembered – suddenly turned cold on her. She was forced to leave the place, not because of her Aunt, but because of the bitterness the place seemed to hold since her uncle died. She couldn't live in the same place mourning the loss of her two beloved family members like Aunt Tamina did.

That was around the time when she had roamed the streets for hours, looking at people, observing places, but never speaking to anybody. When she returned home, her Aunt didn't seem to care at all.

By the end of the same month, she promised herself that she would start life anew and get into The Academy of Natural Philosophy. She found a temporary job as a waitress in one of the low class pubs in the city. She worked for seven hours a day, used her salary to purchase subject books at second-hand, and spend eight hours learning.

There were all kinds of books – Science, Mathematics, Geometry, History and Literature. Strangely, she grew to love them.

In three months, she got into the academy in the first attempt itself, with a promising scholarship. She bid goodbye to her lost Aunt, ditched her job at the pub and packed all her books which filled two suitcases.

When she first looked at the city, nearly ten years before the plague, she felt exhilarated. Everything was big, promising and wondrous. The Academy blew her mind even more.

She could picture the grand marble pillars and walls, the tall spires and stone statues. The best statue was of a man holding the globe in his hands, holding it high above his head. That was the icon of the Academy.

_Clank!_

Willow opened her eyes immediately and sat up to see the guard at her door. For a second, she was surprised to find herself in the dark room, and then she remembered the previous day's events.

'It's long past eight, missy.'

It was the guard from yesterday, who had given her a fair amount of information regarding the prison.

'You wanna clean yo'self up?' He asked genuinely.

A shower sounded divine to her, but she seriously doubted the prison's public baths.

'No thank you,' she replied. 'I'll just . . . stay back.'

'As you wish. If you need water, just call old Tom, an' that's me.'

He gave her a nod and left to the other cells, checking on the prisoners.

Willow leaned back and looked at the low metal roof again.

* * *

When night fell, prison guard Tom waited patiently for his duty relief, so that the night watch could take over. There was still thirty minutes until eight, and he walked through the narrow corridor, looking into the bars and humming a tune to himself. At the end of the corridor, the door to the balcony was open. A cool breeze blew in, touching his nearly bald head.

He stopped in his tracks, staring at the doors. He clicked his tongue in frustration, because he knew that the lazy idiot Wilbur – the guard who usually poised in the balcony – had forgotten to lock it up again. The last time he forgot, Higher watch guard Grimp had cut off half of his salary for the month.

_Anybody after that would've learned, but not that rascal, _Tom thought to himself. The cells at the end of the corridor were empty, and the last cell with a prisoner on this floor was the one with Willow Ride in it. From the way she sat on the bed the whole day, Tom knew that she probably didn't notice Wilbur leaving it open.

He sighed and walked into the balcony, taking a moment to lean on the railings and look at the beautiful scenery in front of his eyes. The prison walls weren't high enough to hide the brilliant lights on Kaldwin's Bridge, nor the faint luminescence of the Academy far, far away.

As he stood on the metal base, admiring the city, a dark figure descended the walls rapidly and landed behind him, making not the slightest sound.

Tom didn't notice the looming presence until it was too late. When he almost turned back, a sharp knife sliced his neck instantly, and the last thing he had seen in this life was a terrifying mask.

The dark figure lifted the dead guard's body and tossed it down the balcony, watching it fall into the water with a loud splash. Immediately, guards on the ground were alerted, and an alarm went off in the building.

He turned and walked into the corridor fearlessly, and caught another guard at the inner railing.

'Ah!' The guard yelled and stepped back. He stumbled and fell, and quickly came back onto his feet, rushing to the stairs. The dark figure summoned up a swarm of rats from the floor, and they devoured the guard mercilessly. The prisoners watched the sight in horror, and soon screams began to echo on the floor, mingling with the blaring alarms and flashing red bulbs.

He walked to Willow's cell, and looked in to find her standing, staring back directly at him. Her face held terror – her eyes wide, her mouth agape. She stepped back, noticing the deranged smile that the mask seemed to wear.

He lifted an index finger upto the deranged smile, gesturing her to remain silent. She could only assume that he was being sarcastic, because the yells and orders of guards filled the air, and soon the sounds of boots echoed in the distance.

Her mind was tangled up. She didn't know what to make of it, of the evil looking mask that was now pulling away the prison bars with his bare hands. That was when she noticed the familiar mark on his wrist.

She stumble backwards, unaware of the sudden weakness that seemed to conquer her body and mind. He tore away the bars and stepped in, his tall figure shadowing her face.

She looked up at the empty metal eyes, and saw nothing but a tiny reflection of her own self – almost cowering.

She opened her mouth, and the words that came out sounded more like a desperate plea.

'_Corvo_?'

He lunged forward and lifted her up with ease, hefting her on his shoulder. He walked out of the cell, to find himself facing an army of guards.

Willow didn't know what to say or do, because she knew he was saving her like he had promised, but – she was afraid.

He raised his marked hand and clenched his fist. It glowed in a brilliant gold, and a sudden gush of wind pushed all the guards backwards, tossing some of them over the railings.

When they had recovered and were standing back on their feet – he was long gone.

Willow felt surreal, like she was being carried through rooftops and pillars at an incredible speed. She was starting to feel nauseous, but the constant rhythm that he kept saved her from getting out of bounds. In what seemed like minutes, they had reached the rooftop of an abandoned building, and the prison walls were not even in sight.

He tossed her onto the tiled roof, and looked to his sides like he was expecting someone.

Willow moved away from him instinctively, because this thing that stood in front of her - this _creature -_ it couldn't be Corvo. She was ready to believe anything but that. This thing wasn't even human, it was twisted and sick.

She slowly got up on her feet, one hand on her stomach. He turned to look at her, and a cold chill went down her spine.

Something moved on both the sides of the rooftop. The air itself was forming into figures. Human figures. The moonlight only cast a faint border , and it showed red leather suits and vapour masks.

Willow didn't have to guess who they were. She wanted to run, to move, but her feet suddenly abandoned her commands.

'What do we do with her now?' One of the assassins asked the creature.

He looked at all of them, and then back at Willow.

'Take her in.'

The voice was nowhere near to Corvo's. It was cold, hoarse and deep.

The next moment, one of the whalers approached her, and hit her hard on the head.

Willow staggered and fell onto the tiled roof, slipping into darkness.

* * *

Corvo was patrolling on the Empress' floor, trying to get his attention onto his job. He couldn't help but think about the mask, which was now hidden in the chest with The Heart. He went into the dining hall, and then down into the court. He needed some fresh air.

As he walked to the doors, the guards held it open for him. He went past the floodlights, heading to the gazebo.

That was when he saw a guard rushing up the staircase through the bridge. He was yelling, shouting out names.

Corvo headed down along with two watch officers, and up close he saw that his clothes were tattered, like he had just been in a fight.

'Gather troops and search parties!' The guard yelled.

Corvo noticed how dirty and panicked he was, almost like a crazy person.

He was stopped by three guards at the entrance to the courtyard.

'Edward,' Corvo called one of the Senior watch officers. The Officer looked at him and lowered his head. 'Can you ask him what the fuss is all about? I don't want unnecessary panic around here.'

'Probably just a mad man,sir,' Edward answered.

Corvo watched the panicked guard curiously for a few seconds and slowly turned back to head to the gazebo again.

The guard pushed the city watch away and yelled, '_The Masked Felon has struck again!'_


	10. Innocence Spilled

**Ten** - Innocence Spilled

The first thing that Corvo did was running back to Emily's room. He found her snuggled up in bed beneath layers of comforters, holding a pillow close to her chest.

Senior watch officer Edward had followed him upstairs, and waited patiently outside The Empress' chamber. Corvo came back out, gently closing the door behind him.

'She's fine,' He mumbled to Edward. 'But don't take any chances. Get five senior officers to guard this corridor. I want two more in the balcony, and place two Arc Pylons, one at the stairs and one in the balcony.'

'Yes sir.'

'If there's a slightest vision of someone infiltrating, ring the alarms immediately.'

'Yes sir.'

Corvo nodded at him once and walked back to the staircase, going to the lab. His mind was jumbled up. He still couldn't get the facts around his fingers, and he secretly expected this to be a dream.

The words were ringing in his ears again and again, each time making lesser sense than the last.

Who could possibly be playing as The Masked Felon other than him? Who else would want to get Willow out of prison, and why?

The watch guards were running around, shifting positions to make a tighter defence arrangement that General Maurice had trained them to.

He could hear thunder rumbling outside, and soon the sound of raindrops on the walls.

'Rossi! Jerome! Get to points D and H right now, nobody's covering' em!' One of the Officers shouted.

The door to the library was wide open, revealing the long experiment table, green boards and couches around the fireplace.

Corvo walked in and shut the door behind him, and only then did he see Piero seated on the couch, holding a smoking pipe in his left hand.

'Where's Sokolov?' Corvo asked, walking towards the couch.

'He went home for the night, four hours ago. Said he needed some real rest.' Piero answered, his line of sight directed towards the fireplace.

'Has he heard about the news?' Corvo asked, sitting down on the couch beside him.

'I think it has spread like fire by now. The Empire's most feared murderer has returned. Quite a good reason for all the Lords and Generals to stay inside for a while.'

Corvo closed his eyes, pressing his fingers softly against his eyelids.

'It wasn't me,' Corvo answered.

Piero turned to him, removing the pipe from his mouth. The fingers that held onto the pipe were trembling slightly, and his mouth was agape.

'What?!' He breathed.

'I was here all the time. I have the mask with me too.' Corvo continued. 'I haven't moved or stepped out of the tower since last night.'

Piero put the pipe down on the table and stood up hastily, covering his mouth with his hand. He turned around and paced the room nervously.

'Who could possibly . .' He kept mumbling to himself as he looked at the floor.

He stopped abruptly and looked at Corvo again. 'So Willow has been kidnapped?'

Corvo nodded grimly.

Piero stopped himself for a second and took a deep breath, like he was trying to calm himself down. 'Just when we were about to cure the plague . . .' He mumbled, shaking his head slowly.

Realisation struck Corvo. He had been thinking about all the affairs inside the tower, while out in the city people were still dying of disease. Now that a bigger problem had shown up, he was afraid that the reformations would be delayed.

Each day, there was a minimum number of thirty people dying of plague, and they couldn't afford to delay it anymore.

Corvo stood up slowly, and turned to Piero.

'You're right,' He said aloud. 'We can't wait for things to fall in place any longer.'

'What do you have in mind?' Piero asked.

'I'll put an end to all this. The Whalers' attack, Anna Maria's death, The Bone Charm in Willow's chambers, and now a second masked felon. All of this has to be connected somehow.'

Piero nodded. 'You just have to trace each incident back to its source.'

'Meanwhile, though,' Corvo said, walking to Piero, 'Emily will need political support in the court. It's absolutely true that I don't trust any of the court officials, but it's a fact that there are a few of them who care about the city's welfare. They just don't speak up because they're afraid.'

Piero gave a nod, listening intently.

'You and Sokolov are very important to the Empire, especially now.'

'You suggest that we utilise our importance in politics?'

Corvo gave a nod. 'You'll also have to cover for me. I'm sure nobody will suspect me of anything for a while after that interrogation, but since I'll be doing a lot of things in secret, I will need a solid alibi.'

Piero smiled. 'You as the assassin have been my greatest creation, Corvo. I will do everything in my power to keep that assassin alive.'

Corvo looked at him for a few seconds, his mind taking in the depth of what he had just said. He wasn't very offended by his words, but he wasn't very happy either.

'Do that,' He finally said aloud, and walked to the door.

'It's amazing, isn't it?'

Corvo stopped at the door. 'What is?'he asked without turning back.

'The terror the masked felon creates among all the people.' Piero said, and Corvo could almost hear him smiling.

'How is that amazing?' Corvo nearly snapped, slightly offended.

'Sometimes even the most powerful of all need someone they fear,' Piero said. 'To stand up for the ones who can't . . . Sometimes a society like ours needs someone that can cut the cancer off.' Corvo wanted to get out. He didn't want to hear anymore of it, but his body defied his instincts.

'I assure you, Corvo, even if the people don't appreciate the Masked Felon now, they will, years later. The lord protector will be remembered, maybe till a three generations ahead. But your other side -'

'Looks like there are two masked felons now,' Corvo interrupted him rudely. 'So until I put an end to the other one, the generations ahead will be confused.'

He waited for a second hesitantly, and walked out of the door.

Piero smiled to himself, turning back to the fireplace. He could almost feel the intensity of what lay ahead.

He would never understand the Outsider's games.

* * *

It was past midnight, and Corvo was out in the city in the Estate district, The Heart buried beneath his thick coat. He wore a black colored coat instead of the royal blue one, because the latter was an obvious sign of the Lord Protector. He had his hood on, and walked slowly on the streets, unmindful of the rain. There was no one out, only a few corpses and one or two guards running to seek shelter from the rain.

He used his dark vision and looked around carefully, his ears open to every sound.

Tonight, he was looking for a rune. He needed to listen to The Outsider, at least get an idea of whatever was happening.

Soon enough, The Heart started beating faintly against his chest. Immediately he snuck into an empty alley and blinked onto a rooftop. He rushed onto the rooftop of an old library, running across the wooden tiles. He slowly dug his hand deep into his coat, and pulled out the mask.

He felt a sudden rush of excitement and passion, looking at the mask as he ran across the rooftop. He paused at the edge, staring into the blank metal eyes that seemed to be tempting him to put it on. Piero's words kept ringing in his ears, like they were being whispered to him again and again. For once, he allowed himself the comfort of dreaming about fame and honor.

_No_, he told himself instantly. _My honor lies in protecting Emily. My honor lies in my badge, in my position and my loyalty to The Empress._

He held on to the mask for a few seconds, and then put it back in. He shifted his attention back onto the Heart, and carefully followed the direction.

After a short journey across low roofs, he finally found a shrine beneath a tree, hidden away from the rest of the world by a tall wooden fencing. He watched the purple light from the rooftop, and descended onto the ground.

Stepping closer to the rune, he extended a hand and wrapped his fingers around it.

Instantly, the surroundings seemed to fade, nothing else seemed to exist except the shrine.

The familiar figure formed in front of him, strange dark clouds wrapping his floating body.

The Outsider smiled down at him.

'Corvo, my old friend,' He laughed to himself - a mysterious, evil laugh. 'So you have come to seek my aid again. You ignore me for a whole year, but when an unknown force threatens your loved ones, you run to find me. Humans indeed make disloyal friends.'

Corvo was lost, dazed. He couldn't speak in his presence. All he could do was listen.

'It seems that another of my disciples has found you. How interesting. Looks to me that he has gotten onto your nerves, hasn't he?' He shook his head, like he pitied him. 'So much at stake, so much to lose, even after all you have already lost. And yet you think about the victims of the plague. Empress Emily and Piero Joplin keep piquing my interest more and more. And of lately, so has Willow Ride. Where is she, Corvo?' He gently floated ahead, moving around Corvo slowly, looking down at him.

'Even with all this at stake, you try to resist me. You try to get things done without using the gifts I gave you. Tell me, do you really think not using your powers will help you? Do you think a plain sword in one hand, and a crossbow in the other will defeat all your enemies?' He moved closer to Corvo, his black eyes boring into his skull.

'You should embrace your abilities, Corvo. Especially the ones I gave you. The Lord Protector alone cannot defend the Empress against all enemies. And your honor lies in protecting her,' his lips curled into a smile. 'Does it not?'

He moved back to the shrine, extending his hands in mid air.

'I trust you will make the most entertaining play, Corvo.'

His form faded into darkness.

Corvo jerked, suddenly aware of all the fences and buildings around him. He looked down at the rune in his hand, The Outsider's words echoing in his ears. He put it into his pocket, and pulled out the other item - the mask.

He slipped it onto his face, listening to the tip-tap of rain drops on the metal surface. He felt a surge of excitement resonating in his veins.

The dark night saw an even darker figure blinking through rooftops in faint clouds of light blue. He never used his powers unless absolutely necessary. Tonight, the case was different.

He took a pleasure in the speed, in the ability to rush through time and space at an incredible rate. His heart was beating loudly in his chest. He kept looking up at the black clouds, at the drops of rain that fell against his mask, and still travelled perfectly.

He couldn't deny it any longer. He loved this feeling. He loved the power. That was what his mask stood for, the part of him that acted as per his own will, unyielding to any other rules or demands.

He loved it.

He rushed ahead faster, listening to his heart banging against his ribs, watching his surroundings move at a lightning speed.

He noticed something from the corner of his eye. He stopped blinking and simply ran across a rooftop, looking to his right. There was another figure on the neighbouring roof, running across it, looking back at him.

Corvo leaped forward onto the next roof, and the figure did the same.

He stopped running, and turned to look at it.

The figure stopped too, looking at Corvo.

Corvo tilted his head, and it followed his movement.

Corvo saw the shine of metal under it's dark hood.

Immediately, Corvo knew it was the man who had kidnapped Willow earlier that night.

He felt a boiling anger rise through his veins, and didn't attempt to suppress it.

'You!' He yelled furiously.

The red robed figure bowed his head once, like he was happy with Corvo's accusation.

'Where is she?' Corvo demanded. The man turned around, and ran across the roof, leaping onto the next.

Corvo rushed forward immediately, blinking through the space. He saw the man sneaking into an open balcony door in a building, and followed him inside, drawing his sword.

He saw him standing in the lonely apartment, facing the door to another room. He looked at Corvo and raised a finger to the smile on his mask, gesturing him to be silent. Corvo stepped forward gripping his sword tighter, but the next second the man had entered the room.

The next thing Corvo heard was a blood chilling scream ripping through the silence of the night. He rushed into the room, and found the man holding onto a civilian, a woman. He held his sword against her neck tightly, his other arm gripping her shoulders. He looked at Corvo.

'Stop, don't!'

He slashed her throat, and crimson blood splattered on the floor and walls.

Corvo lunged at him, and he jumped out of the window.

He glanced back at the dead woman, and pushed himself out of the window, following the man.

He could see him on another rooftop, descending slowly into another open balcony. Corvo clenched his jaws and blinked onto the rooftop. He vaulted over the banister and jumped onto the balcony, but he was too late.

He was exposed to the sight of a dead man and woman, their blood spilled across the furniture and walls. Corvo rushed to an open window and pushed the billowing curtains aside. He looked everywhere, but found no trace of the man.

He brought up the courage to look at the dead couple again, and slowly walked over to their corpses, their heads lying flat on the table. His mark was glowing, burning into his skin more painfully than ever, but the sight occupied every inch of his mind.

He sheathed his sword absent mindedly and looked around to find another open door, leading into a dark, peaceful room.

Corvo stepped in cautiously, using his dark vision. He could see only a tiny golden figure, and he ceased his power immediately. He walked over to the tiny figure, tucked in and wrapped in layers. His mind pictured things, expecting another horror, more red blood. He gently removed his mask and knelt down beside it.

The baby was alive. Her tiny fingers were curled at her chest, her eyes closed in peaceful slumber. Corvo stepped back and closed his eyes for a second, picturing the man's red robes, the mirror image of his mask.

He had killed them for amusement.

He walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind him. He put on his mask again, and jumped out of the window, rage curdling inside him, growling like the storm.

* * *

**Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think!**

**xoxoxo**


	11. A Strange Alliance

**Eleven** - A Strange Alliance

The next morning, the walls of the city were filled with posters of The Masked Felon, and the newspaper screamed the stories of him like an old tale that was revived.

The officials at court were terrified, and most of them demanded that they should be given more number of guards until it was confirmed that the threat was eliminated. Emily had to convince them that she would send out as many soldiers as she could, and put more guards on the watch. As she had expected, some of them even wanted to postpone the plague reformations. She rejected the idea without a second thought.

Corvo knew well that it was best not to tell anyone about last night's events. He didn't want to create any more panic, and after all that the red robed man had done, the matter was now personal. He wanted to take care of that man all by himself.

He sent out Geoff to check the prison cell in which Willow had been kept. He couldn't go there by himself and abandon his duty. He trusted Geoff with crime scenes, because he was surprisingly good at sniffing out clues. Corvo was planning to visit the place too, but late at night.

When Sokolov heard the news the next day, he seemed as awe struck as Piero, and the fact that there was a much powerful hand toying the entire situation became crystal clear to him.

The Overseers were sent to investigate The Flooded District, but they came back without any progress.

The Whalers had suddenly disappeared. The Old company building was no longer their hide out. There was not a single weapon or mask in sight around the building. Immediately, General Eyas and High Overseer Sturgess joined forces temporarily to investigate further about the Whalers' disappearance, an event that increased the tension among all the officials and common folk.

Geoff returned to Corvo the next day with Willow's black vest, silver hair clip and pocket watch.

'This is all I could find,' He said, grimly.

Corvo nodded, taking them in his hands. He saw no hope in them, nothing that could give them a lead. 'I'll give them to Piero,' He said. 'He might have a slight idea.'

'Do you think she's still alive?' Geoff asked. Corvo's hands froze, and he slowly looked up at Geoff. Though his face was gaunt, his eyes were wide open, near to revealing a state of fear and panic.

'I will find her,' He said in a low voice. Geoff was slightly surprised as he saw the depth of emotion in Corvo's face. 'Trust me, I will.' Corvo added.

'Gee . . . Forgive me, my friend,' Geoff mumbled, lowering his head. 'I didn't know she was . . . A close acquaintance.'

Corvo dismissed it with a shake of his head. 'It's not that,' He said, looking down at the vest and pocket watch in his hands.

Geoff didn't dare to question him about any of it, and simply nodded.  
'I'll help as much as I can,' Geoff said to him.

Corvo nodded once. Geoff bowed and left Corvo alone in his chamber, closing the doors behind him.

Corvo placed the vest, hair clip and pocket watch on his study, and walked to the window. The image of the dead couple and lady kept flashing in his mind. Whoever the doppleganger was, there was no justification whatsoever for what he had done the night before. He remembered the baby, alone in her room.

He wad suddenly nervous.

A man that could kill without reason, could kill for mere amusement - how safe could a person like Willow be in his presence?

An endless line of ghastly ideas filled Corvo's mind. If Willow was taken by someone as demented as him, then there was no end to the ways in which she could be tortured. Corvo shook his head lightly, dismissing the horrible thoughts. He couldn't afford to think like that now.

If that man wanted Willow dead, he would have done it on the spot, back at the prison.

No, he wanted her for a reason. Judging by the events of the night before, Corvo was inclined to believe that the reason ultimately involved them getting to him.

He clenched his jaws, and headed out of his chamber. He had to meet with Samuel and Piero back at the pub the same night. He had a plan for the night, a place where he could start his search.

* * *

Far away from the tower, hidden in the suburbs of the city of Dunwall, there was a mansion made up of pure marble, covered by endless growths of wild trees and creepers. Surrounding it was a labyrinth of bushes and grass. It was hidden away in plain sight, safe in the shadow of a hill.

Brigmore Manor.

In the dimness of the twilight sun, numerous shadows materialised outside it's broken iron gates. Their faces were covered by very familiar vapour masks.

The first one among them was a man, the one leading his team of eight into the gates. A man named Range.

He walked in first, looking around at the lawn, at the over grown grass studded with mystical white daisies. Three witches appeared in front of him, blocking his path.

'You're _late_!' The first one sneered. She had a curious shade of greenish skin, with creepers wrapping around her left arm and neck. A few flowers stuck out from the back of her left ear, glowing in a pale yellow hue. Her eyes were mere slits, striking golden in colour. Her name was Ameya.

'Forgive our delay,' Range spoke. 'We got caught up with a rival street gang on our way.'

'Our mistress is not impressed,' the second of the three witches snapped at him. 'If you had arrived just a few minutes late, we could have had the pleasure of killing you.'

'It's not exactly in the favour of our master either, to visit you bi -' Range shook his head in false embarrassment. 'I mean, to visit you witches.'

The first witch sneered at him, flashing her sharp fangs.

'Now,' Range continued. 'Lead us.'

Ameya glanced at all of them suspiciously, and finally turned around to walk forward to the entrance. Her two sisters followed her. Range gestured his allies to be vigilant, and followed them into the door. Three assassins stayed back in the lawn as per the plan.

Range and his four allies were lead into the mysterious mansion. As they walked forward, a lot of witches sneered at them and made rude gestures. The assassins ignored all of them and solemnly took the route set by Ameya.

They were led up a flight of old wooden stairs and into the Gallery. In the centre of the enormous room was a table, on which was a plant with glowing white flowers. The walls had eerie blue and gold lamps, and long, colourful paintings of unexplained locations.

'Sit,' Ameya said, showing the table. 'I have to inform my mistress.'

'Please make haste,' Range said aloud. When she left, he ordered two of his allies to stand guard in front of the room, while the other two followed him inside. He walked to the table, which had only two chairs, one on each opposite side. He pulled out the nearest one and sat down.

'I do not trust them, Range,' The assassin standing next to him spoke. 'These bitches have traps set all over the place. I hope we haven't just fallen into one.'

'I know, Lucent,' Range said, without looking at him. 'But we have orders from The Master. And if they do start attacking, we just stick to the plan. No offence. We'll just defend each other and escape. We are outnumbered.'

'I don't trust the master either,' Lucent grumbled.

Range said nothing.

The door opened, and Ameya stepped in, followed by the mistress.

Her skin was a pale white. Her eyes were crimson, and her hair was in a deep greyish shade, left free on her shoulders in wisps of dreadlocks. Her dress was a dark green, and looked like it was made from moss and sea weed. It expanded at the back in a pattern of feathers, giving her the grace of a peacock with closed plumage. The hem of her deep green dress touched the floor and brushed it constantly.

'I do not see your master,' Samara spoke, as she walked to the table. Her voice was pure evil, deep and husky. She seated herself on the chair opposite to Range's.

'He was busy with an important assignment.' Range answered, unmindful of her intimidating demeanour.

'Something more important than our deal?'

'Of course not.'

'Then why is he not here?'

'He trusts me enough to speak on his behalf.'

'I am _not_ pleased.'

'Well,' Range tilted his head slightly. 'We are not here to please you, Samara. We are here to settle the deal once and for all.'

Samara sat back slowly, her crimson eyes boring into Range's black ones. She put her left hand on the table, drumming the teak wood slowly, making a sharp sound every time one of her pointed black nails touched the table.

'The approval of this deal does not mean we favour you assassins _or_ forgive you in any way,' she finally spoke. 'You dare to double cross us, or even _remotely_ think of acting too smart, we will not think twice before wiping you cockroaches out, _without a trace.'_

Range said nothing. Beside him, Lucent shifted uncomfortably, and to everyone else it looked like he was nervous. However, Range knew better than anybody else that he was smirking inside.

'Of course,' Range accepted, even though her threats simply amused him. It was a known and accepted fact that one witch could easily defeat three amateur assassins, their magic was on a different level. But after Delilah's death, they had fallen weak. They were vulnerable to every little threat, including minor street gangs. They needed strong support, and that was exactly where the Master had seen an opportunity.

'Well then,' Samara stood up. 'Me and my sisters agree to offer you assassins shelter in our own Manor for two weeks, and in turn you will offer us your fighting hand whenever any threat stands in our way.'

Range stood up after her, and nodded. 'Any formalities for this contract?' He asked.

'A drop of your blood,' She answered, with a smile that exposed her sharp fangs.

Range gave a nod, and pulled out his right glove. He held out his right hand, and one of the witches that was standing guard walked forward and cut a deep scar on his forefinger.

Range winced. _Worthless bitches_, he thought.

'On the the table,' The witch added. Range positioned his wounded finger on top of the table, watching three drops of blood fall on the dark brown surface.

The three drops seemed to dissolve into the table. In seconds, the red colour was gone. Samara did the same, but to Range's disgust, her blood was a sickly green.

'You may leave now,' she said, walking out of the room. 'Bring back your friends tomorrow night. One of my sisters will show you your new . . . Home.'

Range couldn't help but notice the sarcasm in her voice, like she was secretly planning on killing them all, one by one. However, he just nodded in acceptance, and before the witches knew, they had all disappeared from the room.

Ameya sneered from the corner. 'We should just kill them _all_!' She exclaimed.

'That fire of vengeance burns in all our hearts, sisters,' Samara said, turning to face Ameya and the three other witches. 'But the one who really killed our beloved mistress, he's already in the void. We are weak. We _need_ support.'

'What about the ritual?' One of the three witches asked.

Samara's crimson lips curled into a wicked smile, exposing her sharp teeth. 'It will be performed on the seventh night, as predicted.'

* * *

Corvo watched solemnly as Samuel poured whiskey into three glasses. Piero sat beside him, mumbling to himself about things Corvo couldn't understand. He only hoped that Piero was thinking about ways to find Willow.

'I have a place in my mind, I'm going to start looking there tonight. Maybe after two hours,' Corvo finally spoke, bringing the glass to his lips.

'Join the threads,' Piero suddenly said aloud. Corvo and Samuel turned to him, putting their glasses down.

Piero pulled out a small notebook from his breast pocket and then a fountain pen.

'So many clues,' he mumbled. 'A few more and it'll fall into place. All of it . . '

Samuel and Corvo exchanged looks, and turned back to Piero.

'Daud was killed,' he mumbled on, scribbling notes on the paper. 'Emily was crowned, the assassins went into silence for about . . . Eleven months after that. Suddenly they show up and kill seven aristocrats quite spectacularly and just as the reformations were being planned. They attack the tower, make chaos, kill a . . A servant.' He stopped for a second, shaking the pen. 'Then Lacquert accuses Willow, which is quite understandable really, since she had the keys. Interrogation, and Willow gets caught.' He circled something on the paper. 'Thats our first genuine why, since Anna Maria's death doesn't yield much. Anybody you suspect?'

Corvo exhaled, staring at the paper. 'First, Lacquert.'

'Of course,' Piero continued. 'Moving on, the second felon appears, kidnaps Willow and then the assassins abandon their HQ in the flooded district. So obviously, this second one, whoever he is, is associated with the assassins.'

Corvo nodded.

'But currently, I think you should only investigate Lacquert. The army and the overseers are out there looking for the assassins.'

'What about Willow?' Corvo asked. 'We haven't got a clue where she is, whether she is alive or not. We have to find her.'

Piero settled his spectacles and sighed slowly. 'My friend . . Willow was my apprentice too, but in this case I think we should all consider her . . . Second. Because -'

'Thank you, Piero,' Corvo interrupted him. 'I'll just go to Lacquert's place now. I'll tell you if I find something. You should go rest.'

He got up, nodded once at Samuel, put on his coat and left.

Piero put his book and pen inside his pocket, and took the glass in his hands. Samuel cleaned Corvo's glass and put it back on the shelf.

'Willow is a smart woman,' Piero mumbled. 'She'll find a way, I'm sure . . . _He_ told me last night, in my dream. _He_ told me it's Corvo that we should be worried about.'

Lord Earnest Lacquert's house was on Clavering boulevard, opposite to Galvani's. It was only a duplex apartment, renovated five months ago. The street was much better, with trees growing along both the sides, and it was free of alarms and arc pylons. What lingered on the street were only three guards and an ice cream stand.

Corvo sneaked in through the small glass window in the attic, his mask covering his face. Lacquert had left for Morely the same morning, and the only person present in the apartment was his butler.

The attic was cramped, full of old furniture and other household items.

Corvo walked out of the attic, and went down the narrow set of stairs that led directly into the drawing room.

He looked up at the western wall, and saw the butler.

The dim light of the lamp showed only one half of his body. He was cold dead, pinned to the wall by a long sword that had impaled his chest. Blood was splattered on the walls and the carpet. His face hung to one side, his empty eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

Corvo walked forward and inspected the body, looked around at the room and the floor. He returned to the body, and found a note in the butler's vest, wet with blood.

He carefully removed the note and unfolded it. The blood stained the top section, but the ink was still clear enough.

' Johnson, lock up the windows and doors. You're free to grab drinks from

the freezer, but keep away from my private reserve. I'll be back in two weeks,

if my job is done as planned.

If you know who comes knocking, give him the envelope that I put in my desk,

the red one with a black seal. It's easy to spot.

I trust Lorelei won't betray us, mostly. If you feel there's something wrong in the

house, inform me and run for dear life.

E. L '

Corvo put the letter in his vest and went into the bedroom. There was a study desk in the right corner, all the drawers pulled out. He went through the contents carefully, but found no red envelope. Whoever had murdered the butler, had taken the envelope.

He went back into the drawing room, and closed the butler's eyes. He didn't dare to disturb the scene anymore. His heart felt like rock as he left the place, making his way back to the pub.

Lorelei.

He needed to find that woman.

**Thank you so much for reading!**

**And if you guys have a deviant acc, please look out for my works. So far I've drawn Samara. My names BlazingGlory06. I know, should've used the same name.**

**Leave a review for me down there, I will appreciate that. ALOT.**

**xoxoxo**


	12. The Connecting Thread

**Twelve** - The Connecting Thread

* * *

**I know it's a little late, but here's some clarification on characters and stuff. From a recent review I've noted a few faults in the story, and will be changing a few things soon. ****I request you to read the following patiently, only if you feel like you haven't followed Willow and Corvo's character so far. If you have, you can skip to the story.**

**As I said, constructive criticism is also welcome :)**

**Willow Ride is the kind of person who has survived a tragedy in her childhood days. There are several ways in which a person might deal with such incidents, the two basic ones defining all of them. They can either face the tragedy, forgive and move on, so that when they are asked about it in the future they can answer quite freely. On the other hand, they can choose to forget that something of that sort happened, or remain in a place that's in between accepting and forgetting. Like putting the entire thing on hold and keeping all the feelings bottled in, distracting themselves with anything else just to avoid facing that memory. Willow Ride chose the second path, basically ignoring the incident that could be the defining moment for a strong character. As a result, she's passive, withdrawn, with not much liveliness.**

**And as for Corvo, I took the freedom provided by the interactive moments in the game to build his character. It's ****medium chaos****, to begin with, meaning he prefers not to kill guards/ targets, however if he sees no other way, he forces himself to do so. **

**As for the first three chapters being too long, I'd just like to say that I'm trying to make this story as real as possible, like an actual novel. I don't want to end up with more than 20 - 25 chapters, nor do I want to stuff all the ideas in a single one.**

* * *

'_Climb onto the highest peak and still I will be there to catch you_

_ My dear one, there is no valley deep enough to hold me bound_

_ Bound, As the world turns and shifts and leaves bloody scars,_

_ No matter where you are, I will keep you away from iron bars._

_ Gold, silver and rubies are nothing to me but dirt,_

_ If I don't have you by my side to share all the mirth._

_ Jewels will slip from me like does snow from the mountain ground,_

_ My dear one, there is no valley deep enough to hold me bound._'

'_I love that song, mummy!'_

_'Of course you do, sweetheart. It was written for you.'_

_'Did you write it, mummy?'_

_'No, your grandfather did. He loved you more than anything else in the world._'

Willow opened her eyes, taking in a blurry image of a wooden roof. She shifted uncomfortably and sat up, holding a side of her head. The old valley song kept ringing in her ears, her mother's melodious voice echoing at the back of her head. She blinked a few times and looked around at the wooden walls and floor. The room was small, dark. There was a single lamp burning bright, and it hung on the wall. Willow had been sleeping on a quilt that had been spread across on the floor. There was a tiny fireplace on the right wall, and an old torn couch surrounding it.

The last memory she had was being thrown onto a rooftop, getting surrounded by assassins, and then it went blank. She had been unconscious.

She stood up weakly, resting one hand on the wall. There was a jug of water on the couch. Taking a deep breath, she dragged herself to the couch and grabbed the jug, feeling a sudden fatigue in her bones.

She sat down on the couch and drained the whole thing, and used a little amount to wash her face. She looked down at herself, and found that her dress was the same one she had been wearing back in the prison. Her hair was left open, falling onto her shoulders in a messy cloud of black.

Suddenly, a door opened from the right side of the fireplace. Two men in vapour masks walked in, and saw her on the couch.

'She's awake,' One of them said.

'Inform the master,' The other one ordered. The first one nodded and left.

'My name is Range,' The assassin said aloud. He walked to Willow slowly. 'I will be in charge of you, making sure that you don't act stupid by trying to escape.'

'Where am I?' Willow asked.

'You do not need to know that,' He answered immediately. 'My ally will get you your food shortly. Eat without a complaint. Do not make noise.'

'Why did you bring me here?' She asked. 'I have nothing. I'm not rich or anything. Nobody's going to pay a ransom for me.'

'We do not work for ransom, woman!' He exclaimed. 'Now do not speak a word.'

Willow said nothing as her eyes slowly drifted to the door. It was wide open, and there was nobody outside. If she could knock him unconscious and make a run for it -

She shut her eyes immediately. She didn't know where she was, but she did know that the place was full of assassins. She couldn't risk doing something so stupid.

Range stood at the door, leaning on the wood.

Willow's eyes scanned the whole room, its contents and shelves. She made a mental note about the things she deemed useful : a pair of scissors, cinder, dead embers from the fire, and a closed glass window. It was useless, because it was covered by sheets of metal that were nailed into the wall on either sides.

There were a lot of bottles and cans stacked irregularly in one corner, most of them empty. Besides that, there was only the couch, torn wallpapers and the quilt that she had been sleeping on. She looked at the door again.

An idea built up in her mind. She sat up straight and looked at Range.

She had to get a look at the corridor outside.

* * *

'Lorelei?' Sokolov asked, shifting his attention to Piero.

'Apparently, she was mentioned in the butler's note that Corvo found,' Piero explained.

Sokolov put down the pair of tongs that he was using to hold a test tube, and stroked his beard.

'Lorelei . . . Somehow it sounds familiar,' Sokolov mumbled. 'I cannot remember why though . . '

'Was she one of the prostitutes that you hired?' Piero asked straight forwardly.

'Of course not,' Sokolov replied. 'Why would I remember a prostitute's name?'

'Just a thought,' Piero mumbled.

Sokolov sat down in front of the lab table, slowly pulling out his gloves. There was a faint noise from the weeper cells, sounds of low cries and chatters.

'How many weepers have been cured?' Piero asked. 'I keep losing track of our real job.'

'All of them are cured,' Sokolov answered casually. 'At different levels, though. But I can say that they're all safe from the plague. I couldn't trust the guards with treating the weepers, so I had to do it myself the last two days. And _you've_ been _oh so busy_ doing something _so_ secret, you wouldn't know of all my work.'

'Shouldn't you be celebrating then?' Piero asked. 'We've found the perfect cure.'

Sokolov froze in his movements, his eyes fixed on the table. A sudden shadow seemed to take over his monotonous expression, that of remorse. He lowered his eyes slowly to the stack of papers that lay in front of him, all of Willow's reports.

'We should have been celebrating by now,' He mumbled loud enough for Piero to hear. 'This moment was supposed to be glorious for me - I mean, both of us.'

'Indeed,' Piero nodded.

Sokolov shook his head slowly. 'Misfortune always strikes when it's least expected. I'd been dreaming of this moment for so long, working for it. But now that Willow's disappeared . . .'

'I understand,' Piero mumbled. 'But something tells me she's going to be just fine. I'm sure the assassins are holding her now. The entire defence is searching for them. We will find her,' Piero placed a hand on Sokolov's shoulder reassuringly.

Sokolov nodded curtly. He picked up the first paper from the stack, reading the information regarding a weeper that Willow had noted.

'Test subject : 23

Signatures : A tattoo on the neck.

Date of Collection : 12th, Month of Nets.

Place of Collection : Dabokov street, Rudshore District.'

'_Lorelei!'_ Sokolov suddenly exclaimed, standing up with such force that the chair tumbled backwards. 'Of course, now I remember!'

Piero stood up with him, looking from the paper to Sokolov. 'Who is she, then?'

'How could I possibly forget that wench!' Sokolov grumbled on as he walked to the hat stand and collected his coat. Piero followed him down the stairs, right to the royal court, where a group of young women from a theatre were putting on a musical.

Corvo stood beside Emily, watching the play with the interest of a sloth. Emily sat in her throne with the same expression as Corvo's.

'They seem to be ah . . Busy,' Piero mumbled to Sokolov.

'More like bored out of their wits,' Sokolov replied.

The Royal Spokesperson spotted them at the top of the stairs, and invited them to their seats with a grin that joined both his ears. 'Its a bloody good show, really!' He exclaimed as he saw Sokolov and Piero taking their seats at the foot of the pedestal.

'At least someone's enjoying it,' Piero mumbled.

He turned to find Sokolov charming a middle aged woman, his left leg folded onto his right one.

_Well_, Piero thought grimly. _Isn't his attention span just amazing._

When the cacophonous play was finally over, The Royal Spokesperson concluded the assembly, since it was a weekend. The Officials were escorted home by guards, and Emily retired to her room, trying to get the horrible songs out of her head.

Sokolov and Piero rushed in after Corvo into the Empress' floor, desperately trying to bring him to a remote corner. When it was finally confirmed by the maids that Emily was resting, Corvo led them to his chamber.

'That woman you asked about,' Sokolov began, closing the doors behind him. 'Lorelei, I know her rather well. No wonder she's responsible for all this chaos.'

'I doubt that she's responsible for all this,' Corvo mumbled. 'More likely just involved.'

'Ah!' Sokolov exclaimed impatiently. 'You wouldn't be saying that if you knew her as I do!'

'So who is she?' Corvo asked, leaning against the study table.

Sokolov took a deep breath, stroking his beard. He seemed to be steadying his mind, preparing to reveal something that had had an obvious effect on him.

'A few years before the plague,' He began, seating himself on the couch, facing Corvo and Piero. 'Back when the whale oil revolution had just begun, and Esmond was practically leading the empire . .'

'Esmond Roseburrow?' Corvo asked. Sokolov nodded grimly.

'Precisely,' Sokolov said. 'At that time I had just begun designing ammunition and weaponry for the empire's defence. Our city was . . small. I had it in my mind for a long time, to make an agreement and hold a venture with Roseburrow industries, if they were to accept my designs. I was travelling back to Gristol by the latest whale oil powered steamer, from my homeland Tyvia,' Sokolov took a moment to take a deep, heavy breath. Corvo waited patiently. 'As soon as I stepped into the city, I was ambushed by whalers. Five of them, as I recall. They wanted my designs, my inventions. I escaped, luckily found a few Overseers that chased them away. When I was residing at Roseburrow's estate, when our deal was still in progress, I was attacked again, but failed. You see, their mission wasn't assassination, just a petty theft. So the assassins that were sent were just amateurs. They caught one, and when he was interrogated, he revealed that they had been paid by a woman named Lorelei, which was obviously an alias. Apparently, she's a noblewoman, the dirty kind, who hides her business of smuggling behind a pretty dress manufacturing factory. She wanted to sell my designs to some foreign power.'

'Did they catch her?' Piero asked. 'If it was proven that she ordered the theft, she deserves a year in prison.'

Sokolov shook his head. 'I never saw her or met her. She was caught, but released within two days,' He sighed heavily. 'Some _justice_ we're given. After that, she temporarily shut down her factory for five years, but re-opened it again. I do not know about her looks, address or connections.'

'So she's dirty nobility, using a well-known alias,' Corvo said. 'That's helpful, Sokolov. Thank you. I know just the man that can lead me to her.'

'I do not trust the Overseers or the city watch,' Sokolov said. 'But I trust _you_ to find Willow. In

time.'

Corvo nodded curtly, and went back to his duty.

When it was half past ten, Corvo slipped out of the tower with ease, using the secret passage that very few people knew about. Once in the city, he put on his mask.

He took the familiar path that led to a very familiar place - Bottle street.

When he walked into the Distillery, the thugs stepped aside immediately, some of them chattering and whispering.

He walked all the way to the thug that was guarding the wooden door in the dry courtyard, who stood up as soon as he spotted Corvo.

'I want to see Slack jaw,' He said to the thug. The short man nodded and opened the door to lead him into the distillery. The stench of fermented juices was almost overwhelming, and mixed with the odour of plague rats, it was nearly unbearable.

Slack jaw was in his office, and from the way he sat idly staring at the door, Corvo knew that he had been informed of his arrival.

The thug left them alone, closing the door behind him.

'If it ain't the most infamous man in town,' Slack jaw drawled, getting up from his seat. 'I'd like to say I'm pleased to see my saviour again, but I'd be lying.'

'I have a job for you,' Corvo said, ignoring his small talk.

'If it's killing someone, I'm sure you can manage that?'

'I want your men to look into someone's house. A noblewoman.'

'Lucky guess. It's that hag Lorelei, ain't it?' He smiled, showing off a silver tooth at the back of his upper jaw. 'Knew she was up to something fishy. That's why I rejected her offer.'

'What offer?'

'She wanted my men to kill some nobleman. A man with a . . strange name.'

Corvo stepped towards Slack jaw's desk, examining the papers. 'Was it Earnest Laquert?' He asked in a low voice.

'Yeah, that's the guy,' Slack jaw replied, turning to him. 'I threw her out immediately.'

'Why?' Corvo asked, looking back at him.

'There are some affairs in this god forsaken city that I don't let me and my men get into,' Slack jaw explained. 'Some things that we're better off staying away from.'

'What did she offer in exchange?' Corvo asked.

'10 gold ingots.'

'Isn't that a fair price?'

Slack jaw shook his head grimly, returning to his seat. 'You don't get this. She was involved with them assassins in some way.'

Corvo felt a tightening in his chest, remembering the red robed man, the lone baby in the room.

'How was she involved with them?' He asked.

'Made some kind of twisted deal with those freaks,' Slack jaw began. 'Said she had to keep her end of the deal, and she needed our help. Wouldn't take a genius to guess that "her end of the deal" was killing Earnest whatever-his-last-name-is.'

'Did she say anything else? About the deal?'

'Well . . Not much after that. That lady has a sloppy reputation among street gangs, to begin with. Always fucks up things and gets people in trouble. Sometimes gets them into situations that forces them to pay her back. Smart one, but sick.'

'From what I know,' Corvo said, 'You weren't afraid of the assassins before.'

'No,' Slack jaw accepted. 'I wasn't. But ten months ago, shit changed. They grew stronger. Not that they got advanced weapons or something, they just grew more . . . violent. When the man Daud led them, they were how they had to be. Done with their business, then get out of the place. Sincere, in a way. But now they ain't sticking to principles no more.'

'They got a new leader?' Corvo asked.

'A bull of a leader, more like,' Slack jaw said. 'Sent three of his men to warn me eight months ago, to keep away from any of their affairs. I ignored that in the beginning . . I learnt it the hard way. Lost twenty men.'

'So you're taking my deal?' Corvo asked.

Slack jaw exhaled slowly, resting his feet on the table. 'Snooping around Lorelei's home?'

'Home, and factory.'

'What d'ya want us to find?'

'A red envelope with a black seal. And anything else suspicious. Anything relating to . . abduction, murder or theft in the Dunwall tower. Any scandal.'

'How long d'you want them to search?'

'Half a day,' Corvo said. 'Get them disguises. Send two women with them, to minimise the suspicion.'

'Well, I have women doing official jobs for me too,' He closed his eyes for a second, deep in thought. 'If that request came from somebody else, I would've rejected immediately. But it's you, and when you're involved in something, it has to be important. Besides,' He picked up his pipe and stuffed in tobacco, saying, 'I owe you.'

'I'll pay you whatever you want, after the job's done. '

'Agreed,' Slack jaw said, drawing in the smoke. 'If something resurrected the masked felon, it has to be related to the fate of the empire itself.' He smiled wryly. 'Ain't I always right?'

* * *

Willow hastily slipped on Range's vapour mask, and put on his black gloves. The last part of the outfit were the shoes, and they were too big for her, to compensate the extra free space, she stuffed in paper and cloth to make sure that they didn't slip out. The mask was heavy, but it helped to keep her head lowered. She glanced at the door nervously, and saw that it was still locked from the inside, the way Range had left it.

She had used a simple trick, bringing her degree of Chemistry to practical use. Among the many bottles and cans in the corner were bleach and home remedy sewer cleaner, which were found everywhere in the city. All she had to do was sneak out a little bit of both, get them into a small container and hide it in her pocket. Then she had to convince Range that she was sick, and coughing a lot did the trick.

When she shook the container and stuffed it into the valve in his mask, the quantity of the gas released was enough to knock him out. Then she put on his clothes, and wrapped him up in her's, laying him down on the quilt. She had to clean the mask thoroughly before putting it on.

Fortunately, the material of the coat was the stiff kind, so it succeeded in hiding her feminine parts, and making the shoulders look a little broad.

Her heart kept banging against her chest. She stepped aside and took a moment to breathe deeply, avoiding hyperventilation. She never usually prayed, but in this situation, it seemed almost logical.

She threw a blanket on top of Range, making it cover his head. His legs still poked out, but since she had given him her shoes, it didn't look suspicious.

_Nothing will go wrong_, she told herself. _Don't speak. Nod and shake your head if anyone speaks to you, and maintain your calm. Walk confidently, the way Range did_.

She took a deep breath and headed towards the door, praying to somehow find Corvo outside whatever building they were in.

**Hope you enjoyed it!**

**Thank you for reading, please leave a review.**

**xoxoxo**


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